


Love in the Perfect World

by Mochiluver



Series: Thanking the World for Love [2]
Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Falling In Love, Hawaii, Healing, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24222133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochiluver/pseuds/Mochiluver
Summary: It was this moment.Everything in the world suddenly became so beautiful thanks to that dazzling smile. It was all because there was someone dear she wanted to love forever.
Relationships: Sherlock | Futaba Sara Shelly/Tachibana Wato
Series: Thanking the World for Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1374838
Comments: 24
Kudos: 31





	1. 'Ekahi: A’a i ka hula, waiho i ka maka’u i ka hale

Sherlock yawned as she and Tachibana Wato walked into 221b late at night. As expected, Hatano Kimie was up. The landlady prepared a pot of her favorite drink, Asamiya tea. There was even a container of curry and rice for dinner. The two thanked the older woman before Kimie retired for the night.

Since neither had food since lunch, the simple comfort meal was welcomed. The consulting detective hid her smile behind her mug as she watched her companion eating happily. One thing she admired about Wato was her ability to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. She was staring too long when the other woman turned her head. “Sherlock, what’s wrong?” she asked with tilting her head slightly.

Even the simplest gestures made her friend endearing in her eyes.

“Nothing.” Sherlock put down her mug and returned to her plate, scooping curry and rice into a spoon before bringing the utensil to her mouth. She continued eating in order to deter her roommate from scrutinizing her thoughts.

In little over a year, her partner’s skill in observation and deduction grew exponentially. She started to take more initiative in leading the commission cases. Her performance made the consultant very proud. However, it slightly unnerved her when Wato decided to apply her skills to Sherlock’s concealed thoughts and feelings.

Was this karma to her past actions of intensely scrutinizing others?

Maybe it was. Though that was not the point.

The point was her mask, the armor she crafted from long ago was crumbling in front of this detective protégé. For some reason, that did not annoy her as much it would have been a year ago.

What was this sensation, this spell Tachibana Wato casted on her?

“I can’t believe we’re almost done with May,” Wato spoke up, snapping the consultant out of her reverie. There was a cute pout that graced her face.

Sherlock grunted in agreement and pulled out her phone. She opted to scan the news feed in order to avoid meeting the other woman’s gaze.

“That case took longer than I anticipated,” she continued. “We even missed Golden Week! I wish I can go on a vacation.” The consulting detective could visualize the petite woman with a wistful smile. It had been over a year and a half since they last took a trip abroad. They were so overdue for a vacation.

She set a reminder on her phone to contact brother dearest tomorrow.

***

Sherlock was truly grateful that Wato had a fixed schedule for her part time job. Mornings gave her the space and time to rationalize. She stared at her phone, her thumb lingered at Kento’s contact information. It was time to suck it up and get it over with. Her thumb tapped on the call button. The ring tone replaced the calmness.

“ _Sherlock_ ,” the elder Futaba greeted.

“Ani, I need a plane ticket.” Clean, sweet, and straightforward.

Her brother did not speak first. “ _May I know why?_ ”

“It’s for a vacation, nothing more.”

“ _I see, anywhere in particular?_ ”

“None, whatever your consulate general contacts can offer at a short notice.”

“ _Give me some time. I’ll get back with you_ ,” he replied. “ _Two plane tickets, correct?_ ”

“Affirmative; I’ll be waiting.” She ended the phone call.

Now the matter was in her older sibling’s hands. All she had to do was wait. Sherlock put down her phone and she reached over for her cello. She snapped open the case and gently picked up the bow. As a familiar routine, she twisted the knob to tighten the horse hairs. Then she reached for the instrument itself and tuned it. Once she was in position, the consulting detective closed her eyes. She could visualize a music sheet in her head. With a mental count to three, she began playing. It was time to get lost in the world of music.

In the early afternoon, she was working on her aromatherapy hobby. She had been toiling on her benzyl acetate project for almost a year. The consultant was quite confident she was getting closer to perfecting it. Her cellular device vibrating against the coffee table pulled her away from her lab table.

It was Kento returning her call. She swiftly grabbed her phone and accepted it. “What do you have for me, Ani?”

“ _Two business class tickets for Honolulu, departing from Haneda Airport on Saturday, May 23, 9:00 p.m._ ”

Fantastic, as expected from brother dearest.

She glanced over at the calendar. Today was Tuesday, May 19. That gave her three days to pack and prepare for their trip. Since Japan was nineteen hours ahead of Hawai'i and a flight across the Pacific would be almost nine hours, they would be arriving on Friday, May 22 around 2:00 a.m. That sounded perfect to start their day on the other side of the International Date Line. Plus, having business class seats meant a good night’s rest horizontally.

Sherlock could always count on her kin for going above and beyond her expectations. “So, what’s in O'ahu around this time?” she asked with curiosity. Hawai'i was an excellent destination for Japanese nationals. The best part was the melting pot of cultures and languages. They could easily get by with strictly speaking Japanese with the Japanese Hawaiian locals. (Of course, Sherlock was also fluent in English in case they ran into any trouble.)

“ _According to the consulate general in Honolulu, Monday, May 25 is a holiday in America. It’s known as Memorial Day: Americans remember and honor fallen soldiers that served the country. In Hawai'i, the locals do it differently from their mainland counterparts. There is a lantern floating ceremony held on every Memorial Day at Ala Moana Beach._ ”

So this was a holiday of remembrance, huh? Sherlock remained quiet as she let the information sinked in. Knowing the elder Futaba, their flight and lodging reservation was already booked. There was no backing out now. Once she was done with her call, she would have to research to completely understand. She finally said thank you to her brother and promptly ended it.

“Eh? Vacation?” Wato cried out when she returned.

“We’re going to O'ahu. Pack accordingly for humid weather,” she retorted while packing her toiletries.

“Wait a minute,” her companion countered, walking up to her. “We’re going to Hawai'i in three days?”

“Correct; we’re going to stay there for a week.” What was the big deal? All flight and lodging arrangements were already made. All they had to do was show up at the appropriate time and destination. This was the finest example of why Kento was the best big brother.

“SHERLOCK!” the other woman raised her voice. That prompted the consultant to look upwards. Oh, shit. She was in trouble. “You just informed me that I have three days to pack. That means I have three days to tell my boss about my absence and arrange a shift change with another coworker. Why couldn’t this happen later?”

Hey, she was the one that wanted a vacation! The consulting detective was merely granting her wish. “If it makes you feel better, your request for time off is already approved.” It was thanks to Reimon for contacting the head librarian. At this point, she was certain that Wato’s boss was under the impression that her friend was some kind of secret agent for the government. That inspector was so good with his words.

“Well, that’s a relief,” the detective protégé huffed as she stepped out of the lounge room and stomped up the stairs. “Next time you do this, at least give me a two week advance notice. I swear, you are a pain in the butt.”

She knew that was intentionally said within earshot. The consulting detective actually preferred cheeky, thank you very much. She resumed packing her belongings. After much research on Hawai'i (especially food goodies), she was reconfiguring her luggage space so she could cram as much food to pass customs on her flight back to Japan.

***

Saturday was finally here.

The taxi dropped them off at terminal three. Since they were here (three hours before their flight), that gave them time to check in and explore the airport before departure. For her, it had been years since she stepped foot in this international airport. So much had change since she was a child. She found it amusing how there were so many amenities to pamper passengers. To her surprise, her companion was skilled at navigating Haneda Airport. There were times she tugged on Sherlock’s jacket to prevent the consultant from wandering off. She found herself not minding the gentle tether the petite woman initiated. It kept her grounded and focused.

They returned to the gate heading to Honolulu around 8:00 p.m. Twenty minutes later, the gate was opened, allowing passengers to board the plane. Sherlock inwardly smirked as Wato openly gawked at the elaborate interior design of business class. Her partner definitely matured over a course of the year, but she retained her naiveness. She should have anticipated that there was no way her sibling would let his sister air travel uncomfortably. Their seats were across from each other: Wato had the middle aisle while Sherlock had the window. Her curiosity sparked as she began to scan the seat, levers, television monitor, and amenities bag. Sitting in a business class plane was a new playground to explore through the sense of touch. Sadly, her playtime was cut short asher roommate hissed at her to stop. The consulting detective inwardly pouted at her friend for being a spoilsport. Though, her sour mood did not last long as a flight attendant gave her complimentary chocolate.

It was not long until it was time for take off. She distinctly remembered the roar of the jet engine. As a precaution, she covered her ears with plugs to muffle the sound. With the noise at a lower decibel, she was able to enjoy the view of Haneda Airport and Tokyo growing smaller as the jet flew higher. It was so fascinating to see the capitol so small when the metropolitan was so grandiose on the ground level.

Eventually Tokyo and Japan faded away and was replaced with the dark blue ocean. They had been in the air for almost two hours. Sherlock knew she had to sleep. She refused to let her body to succumb to jet lag. Not when there was so much to explore on the island of O'ahu.

The humming of the jet and light snoring from the other passengers were offset by her intrusive thoughts of research she done in the last three days.

To begin, Lantern Floating Hawai'i was inaugurated in 1999 by Her Holiness Shinso Ito, Head Priest of Shinnyo-en. As a Buddhist master, she wanted to establish cultural harmony and understanding (which was reasonable since the Hawaiian Islands was a blend of multiple Eastern and Western cultures). Sherlock found herself intrigued by the multiple elements incorporated into the ceremony. It would be fascinating to witness in person.

Her fascination then took a sour turn as she read about the lanterns. There were three lanterns that would be floated out to the sea. First was six large main lanterns dedicated to all prayers for war victims; natural disaster victims or victims of natural and manmade crises; and diseases. These lanterns were for gratitude, harmony, and peace. Second was the collective remembrance lanterns. This was for submitted prayers prior to the ceremony; volunteers would float these in the sea. The third one was the individual lanterns. These were distributed on the day of the ceremony. A person or family wrote prayers or remembrances then they placed the lanterns in the water.

The ceremony definitely had more of a humanism tone than a patriotic one of the mainland. Subjectively speaking, the ceremony was nice for those that require healing for their grief. The timing, however, was so ironic. It was in _spring_.

Spring: a season where everything was so bright, so colorful, so new. It was the time of new beginnings. Why were remembrance days held during this month?

There was nothing special about the season for her. It was so bittersweet. It was a season that reminded her of everything that she lost. How could she embrace spring when there were silent tears still locked away in her heart?

Fuck, it had been twenty-seven years and yet the mere thought of them brought her to her knees with tears threatening to fall. In an instant, the years melted away. She was ten again and helpless as ever.

She did not know what was worse: being choked on the nostalgia of pain or silently drowning in her own tears. In both options, nobody would be able to detect the raging storm underneath the serene and impenetrable surface.

The consultant snuggled deeper in her flat bed seat. The blanket was tossed over her head and her back was away from the aisle seat, away from prying eyes. She was deeply regretting this impromptu trip to Hawai'i.

***

It was early Friday morning when they stepped into the Daniel K. Inouye International Airport. Like all airports, it was busy with activity. Sherlock recalled that visitors were given a lei for welcoming them to Hawai'i. Sadly, that was in terminal one (they were in terminal two) and the lei stalls were closed right now. The facility itself was nothing like Asian international airports in terms of amenities, services, and attractions. She entertained the thought of culture shock for Asian international students arriving in airports like LAX (Los Angeles) or JFK (New York). Everyone in Asia were so spoiled. Sherlock supposed the lack of attractions at this airport did not matter. They were in Hawai'i, after all! There was more on the island.

According to Kento, the consulate general had one of his staff members to pick them up from the airport and drive them to their hotel. The two women kept their eyes peeled for a sign with their name on it. Although she got distracted by a monitor that showed the time and temperature. She took a double take at the 76°. It was in Fahrenheit, she mentally converted it to Celsius (24°). The temperature and humidity was bearable for now, but she knew it would get hotter and sweatier once the sun rises.

As a consulting detective, it was quite easy to pick out the right person in the crowd. The staff worker of the consulate general was a middle aged man. He was holding a sign that said Wato’s name and her own. To her surprise, he also included her surname. It was odd reading “Futaba Sherlock-san.” They walked up to him and he greeted them warmly. Then he turned his attention to Sherlock.

“So this is Futaba-san’s little girl all grown up!” he remarked. “I remember how tiny you were back in London.”

The consultant did her best to mask the discomfort. That was too much information about her background being aired in the open. Even though they were friends, she had not divulge everything to Wato. Her roommate’s deductive skills vastly improved over time. It was a proud moment in terms of progress but not when that inquisitive nature was directed at her. Sherlock was nowhere ready to talk more about herself, not now and certainly not in the future.

As the detective protégé learned core investigation lessons, her companion also imparted knowledge of her own: strategic talking to hide her discomfort. ”You were part of my father’s staff, correct?” she replied. Sherlock waited until he confirmed her suspicions and then bowed. “Thank you for supporting him as he did his duties back in the UK.”

He grew flustered by her actions. “N-not at all! Futaba-san was a remarkable leader! The best boss anyone could ask for! He was compassionate and fair. He was a role model for all the other consulate generals and morale for all staff members. We never forgot all he done for us and improving Japan’s image in diplomatic channels. We are in so much debt to him and we’ll do all we can to support his children!”

Clearly her late dad left a lasting positive legacy in the Japanese diplomacy world. This definitely answered a huge part of Wato’s question about the extent of Kento’s government connections. Conversely, could this guy stop talking? She did not want to be standing in an airport all morning as he revealed more about her family.

She was saved by the petite woman yawning by her. This action did not go unnoticed. He got the hint that they needed to move on. The staff worker lead them to the parking lot and helped load their luggage into his SUV. Her friend opted to sit in the back where she could recline her seat. The consulting detective, meanwhile, took the passenger seat. She was in a new land and she wanted to take in the entire scenery of Honolulu.

It was one visual after another with the morning light softly coming through. It could have been overwhelming for her if he was driving recklessly and blasting music. None came into fruition as she noticed everyone drove below the speed limit and were easy going with letting others switch lanes. Moreover, it was Hawaiian soft pop playing on the radio. What caught her attention was the guitar intro and the harmony of three female voices that followed. She remained engrossed with the lyrics that sang about Hawai'i’s natural beauty. It finally hit her that she was in paradise.

The SUV parked in the staff lot of the Japanese diplomatic facility. It should not surprise her that the consulate general stationed in Hawai'i would extend a spare room. Great, that hospitality also meant more story time about her father. It would reflect poorly on her sibling if she walked out on the consulate general and his staff. She hoped that the other woman had an itinerary for her full week on the island. There were bounds of attraction and eateries to preoccupy her. The thought of food made her stomach grumble. Okay, it was over a nine hour flight. It was still embarrassing nonetheless.

To make matters worse, Wato woke up from her biological alarm for sustenance.

Her sleepy eyes scanned her surroundings before she met Sherlock’s gaze. While her stomach cried for food, she could feel it flipping inside out.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?” she softly asked. Despite her sleepiness, she was still attentive to her wellbeing. The consultant could feel her heart soften at the sight.

“It’s nothing more than a craving for breakfast,” the staff worker spoke up, snapping Sherlock out of her reverie. “And I know the perfect meal! Tell you what, why don’t you two bring your luggage inside while I’ll call to place an order? Once you’re settled in, we can drive over and pick it up.”

She blamed her hunger to think illogically and accept that plan. Her biological needs were desperately craving for breakfast. That being said, he helped carried their luggage inside and guided them to their room, a two bed suite. Well, it would have been better if they had two separate rooms, but at least they were not sharing a bed. Sleeping arrangements were quickly decided when she placed her carry on bag on the bed closest to the door. It was a symbol of easy retreat to the bathroom or the exit. Her friend did not think much as she took the other one.

The two left their room and found the staff member waiting for them. However, he was not alone. Besides him was another man. He looked dignified and exuded prestige. Why, he was also…

….also around the same age as her father. She wondered what he would have looked like if he was still around.

“Ah, Sherlock-san and Tachibana-san, allow me to introduce the consulate general, Ito-san.”

“I’m Ito,” the consulate general said warmly. “Welcome to Honolulu. We are happy to have you.” Like the staff member, he shifted his entire attention to Sherlock. Not again. “It has been many years since I last saw you, Sara-chan. You truly look like your mother, but you do have your father’s eyes. Futaba-san was a great mentor to me.”

“Thank you for having us,” she quietly replied with a bow. She resisted clenching her fist as an outlet for venting her simmering frustration at her old name.

“Of course! Well, I won’t keep you ladies waiting. I know there is a special breakfast waiting for you. I won’t be able to entertain you today, but we can do something special for the weekend. We’ll talk more about it later.”

How about never? Sherlock had half the mind to go back to the airport and hop over to the next island. Or maybe go to California.

They parted ways and returned to the SUV.

***

Hawaiian cuisine was its own class of blending multiple cultures settling in the islands over time. It was very distinct from its mainland counterpart but it had familiar elements to not intimidate the less adventurous eaters. Hawaiian food was not entirely unfamiliar to her. Musubi and saimin were popular at home. She was interested in sampling the authentic dishes in the motherland.

As a small island, it was not long until they saw a fifties drive-in sign that said Leonard’s Bakery. She ignored Wato and the staff worker talking and focused on two words: malasadas and pão doce. From her lexicon of the Romance languages, these were Portuguese origins. Glancing ahead, she saw the establishment itself: a humble shop with pink and white tarp awning with the Leonard’s sign written in cursive. For a tiny location, it was busy! There were lines of people waiting for the baked goods. It was clear that Leonard’s Bakery was a local favorite and a foodie attraction for visitors.

The two women followed him out after the SUV was parked. They stayed behind as he stepped forward and talked to an employee. It was not long before he returned with two pink boxes in hand. “These are the famous malasadas I was talking about, Tachibana-san! Let’s find somewhere to sit and eat.” They managed to secure a table and seats. The pink boxes were placed down and the lids were open. There were two dozen malasdas inside. Each doughnut was huge and dusted with sugar. She noticed that some had filling.

As if reading her thoughts, the detective protégé asked about the fillings. There was plain, macadamia nut, dobash, guava, and haupia. Pictures were quickly snapped thanks to its presentation. Sherlock gingerly picked up a plain malasada. It was piping hot and fresh. From her bite, the doughnut was soft, had the right amount of sweetness, and the melt-in-your-mouth factor. It was simply divine, simply delicious. She would never look at a doughnut the same again.

On cue, her companion expressed enough delight over these fried fritters for the both of them. He was happy by their positive response. The staff worker was content with the two of them eating all the malasadas. He was generous like that, just like any parent would be for their children. The consultant picked up another one-this time with dobash filling-to wave away intrusive thoughts. She refused to let the cliche phrase, “trouble in paradise” ruin her mentality. It was day one and she had a long battle ahead of relaxing. Besides, she could not let her friend know. The other woman’s emotional intelligence was on a another level. It was fun to analyze people, when she was the analyst, not the test subject.

Malasada consumption ended on a good and filling note. The consulting detective was no longer hungry and the headache that was about to form was curbed. She still felt pretty good; her body was adjusting well to the changes. The same could not be said for Wato. She had a sleepy look the consultant was all too familiar with. This look only happened when she was exhausted, sick, or simply ate delicious food. With the process of elimination, it was definitely the third option.

The staff member drove them back to the consulate general building which Wato returned to her room. Since they were about to be open for business, he had to return to his administrative duties. Understandably, he was concern about Sherlock being all right on her own. She refrained from rolling her eyes. Of course she would be okay! Honolulu had the highest concentration of Japanese speakers who was a local or a visitor that could help her out, In addition, she knew English. She survived in a land where no one knew her name or bothered to help her out. She did it before and she could do it again: survive and thrive.

To counter his concern, she asked, “Is there a car the consulate general can spare?”

***

The consulting detective would not lie, but it was completely disorienting to drive on the right of the road while sitting on the left side as she maneuvered the vehicle. Honestly, the contradictions were too much. The US staunchly did not use the metric system, yet the majority of the countries adopted its right hand traffic customs. What was this nonsense? The American way of thinking was too much for her. Her first mission on the road was to drive around the island of O'ahu. The island was 1,545 km2. She could easily drive around in an hour. Again, the slow driving helped her acclimate to this mirror opposite of driving and traffic. It also gave her more time to witness the natural beauty with her own eyes. The ocean waters were a turquoise jewel and the sand was pearly white. Inland, on the other hand, was emerald. She never seen so much foliage that green before; it was fitting for a rain forest. She read it rained a lot in Hawai'i, especially in O'ahu. Hydration definitely contributed to its luscious greenery.

If that was not enough, the mountains were spectacular. It was urban landscape, then BAM! There was the range. No foothills, no segue, no midway between urban and nature. It was breathtaking and majestic. In her peripheral view, she could see the fog evaporating away from the ranges. She made a note to find the hiking trails. Being immersed in nature was not her thing, but she was willing to make an exception for this state. 

Before she knew it, Sherlock was back at her starting point. An hour passed and she got a better sense of her surroundings. Since it was later in the morning, human traffic was busier. She would not have a better grasp until she walked around the cities and parks to be completely familiar with it. It would be logical to park in one city and walk around. It would be in her best interest to make a pit stop.

Pearl City was her target for exploration.

She only had an inkling it was lunchtime when she passed by a stall making fresh poke. The colorful presentation reminded her ofchirashi. Again, it was different. There was no rice with the tuna, but soy sauce, green onions, sesame oil, and Maui onions took its place. Wow, it looked so appetizing. Her eyes drifted to the price tag and mentally converted it to yen (she noticed she was using more brain power to do rough conversions). Wow, it was a lot. Then again, this was seafood and this was Hawai'i where everything is expensive. However, the quantity and proportions justified the price. She decided to take that chance.

Five minutes later, she was outside taking pictures of her food before pulling apart her disposable chopsticks and digging in. Okay, this was really good. She would have to research this recipe and procure non-perishable ingredients (including Maui onion seeds) so she could recreate this back at 221b. She was not much of a cook, but she did know chemistry. It was close enough.

Suddenly her phone rang with an incoming call. With fifteen percent in her poke bowl, she reluctantly reached for her mobile device and glanced at the caller ID.

**橘 和都**

Ah, shit.

Sherlock knew she would be in trouble if she did not take this call or truthfully tell her whereabouts. That fugitive stunt warranted unintended consequences.

“Yes?”

“ _Sherlock, where are you? Ito-san said you were out after we returned from Leonard’s_.”

“I’m in Pearl City, eating poke.” That was the truth and it still sounded vague. She was certain it was special talent.

“ _You got something to eat without me?_ ” Even though the cell reception was not that great, the consultant could hear her voice of deadpan and disappointment.

“...Yes.”

“ _Are you even in Hawai'i?_ ”

It was tempting to say she was in Tahiti, but past experiments on imposing her antics to test Wato’s patience told her otherwise.

“I’m not that far from Honolulu. I’ll drive over to pick you up,” she offered.

“ _Very well, there is a restaurant I want to go to. You’re taking me there no matter what._ ”

***

Sherlock watched in fascination and in horror when a waitress came to their table carrying a huge plate in her hands. The platter was set in front of her companion, giving the consulting detective a clear view of the monstrosity before her. It was called loco moco, a dish with two hamburger patties sitting on top of two scoops of rice. On the side was a scoop of macaroni salad. The patties and rice were drenched in gravy and topped with an egg cooked in the style of choice. The waitress recommended over easy and that was on Wato’s plate. To Sherlock, this was wild in comparison to Okinawa Taco Rice. Since it was another popular and famous dish, it had to be good.

Then the petite woman attacked her food once pictures were taken. Even though she ate poke, Sherlock was more focused on Wato’s facial expressions. She was always more expressive than the consulting detective, making her an open book. However, she was also confusing and contradictory. The consultant still struggled with comprehending her to this day. She saw movement from her peripheral view. The same waitress serving their table furtively placed a utensil set by her side. When she glanced at the waitress, the employee merely winked before walking away.

That worker assumed she wanted a bite! The audacity of such ludicrous assumptions!

Nonetheless, she secured her own portion of loco moco and parted with some of her own poke in exchange. The raw marinated fish and vegetables were enough to quell Wato's indignation of stolen food. She scooped the morsel into her mouth. She vastly underestimated the perfect blend of eggs, hamburger patties, gravy, and rice. This taste was addicting and was a threat for anyone's diet.

They left Rainbow Drive-In with the other woman completely satiated with her lunch. Sherlock, on the other hand, was puzzled by the knowing look the waitress gave her when they paid the bill. What drove that employee to have a presumptive conclusion? Sherlock halted escalating thoughts of being at a restaurant that had the word rainbow in it. Rainbows were frequent here due to its prevalent precipitation; nothing more, nothing less.

“Sherlock, let’s go to the beach!” Wato declared as they went back to the car. “Waikīkī should be close by.”

Thanks to her island round trip, it was close by. Waikīkī, however, was such a tourist trap. Waikīkī was famous as a popular, exotic location for filming American television shows throughout the late twentieth century. (She knew this because her parents watched these dramas to improve their English. _Hawaii Five-O_ was their favorite.) Despite being a popular attraction with waves of people, the consulting detective was curious herself. She wanted to know how much it changed over the past sixty years. It would also not hurt to see the statue of Duke Kahanamoku.

By the time they reached the vicinity, she could see the extent of renovation. Damn, it radically changed. It truly was a resort area. This was the face of tourism in Hawai'i. Even though the man-made structure changed, the view did not. That constant was more satisfying than she would ever admit.

The consultant should have expected that her companion wanted to walk around the beach. She quietly berated herself for not changing into beach appropriate attire when she had the chance. She clenched her footwear a little tighter as she followed the detective protégé from behind. No matter how pristine a beach is, she hated the grainy feeling between her toes.

Oblivious to her discomfort, Wato stepped into her role as the photographer on the trip. Some were selfies of herself, Sherlock, or both. Others were the landscape and art. She allowed her friend to do what she wanted as she surveyed her surroundings. She was also ignoring the sweat forming on her backside. The consulting detective was used to humidity, but she desperately needed a shower. Would the universe be merciful in bringing rain to the island?

The consultant lost all track of time when the other woman took a moment to sit at a bench. She quickly followed suite. “Gosh, I worked up an appetite! Let’s get a refreshing snack! What are your thoughts?”

Something refreshing, eh? Her mind flashed back to the treats she had as a kid. Kakigori was highly appealing right now.

Ah, but kakigori went by a different name here. It was called shave ice and there was one place that served the best. Since they were on vacation, they needed to take advantage of the top amenities Hawai'i could offer.

Sherlock glanced at Wato. “We’re going to Hale'iwa. There is a shop that sells a refreshing snack you crave for.”

***

From Waikīkī, they drove counter clock wise. There was more slow traffic due to the volume of cars on a two lane highway. The consultant kept her eyes on the road while Wato did the sightseeing. She gasped at the beautiful beaches that were posted on the internet. Sherlock’s lips tugged into a smile when the petite woman had her back turn. She wondered what would be her reaction to the mountains that were coming around in the next bend.

Wato’s awestruck reaction did not disappoint her. There was nothing like the ranges in Hawai'i.

They were barely passing Kahuku Point when the slow traffic turned into a dead stop. Neither of them knew what happened up ahead. Interestingly enough, all the other drivers were calm and easy going. The consulting detective half expected some of these locals to throw a huge fit, but being on the islands really made a difference from their mainland counterparts.

To pass the time, her companion initiated a conversation about their plans for visiting. For her, it was quite simple: the Polynesian Culture Center, Aulani, Ala Moana, Lanikai Beach, and Hanauma Bay. There was more, but those were the top priority. Then she asked about Sherlock’s interest. It could never have been more of the complete opposite. “‘Aiea loop trail, Nu’uanu Pali, Wa'ahila ridge trail, Diamond Head, Waimea Valley, ʻIolani Palace, and maybe the Dole Plantation,” she answered.

“Wow! That’s so much hiking you will be doing. I thought you didn’t like the outdoors.”

Well, yes she did not care for being one with nature. However, desperate times called for desperate measures. She wanted to isolate herself from people as much as possible right now.

“These mountains persuaded me,” the consulting detective continued. “The fog from this morning was aesthetic; I imagined it would be more rewarding to hike there when the marine layer burns away as the day goes on.”

“As for the other places you mentioned, Ito-san told me he could secure a private tour. He anticipated that you would be interested in historical sites.”

The consulting detective was clearly basing his assumptions on her late dad’s interest. She did like going to public history venues to enrich her own worldly knowledge. Yet, she preferred to do it on her own volition, not because someone of power could close the entire facility for her own viewing pleasure and leisure.

Conversely, the absence of crowds would give her a peace of mind. It reminded her of her parents and Kento making sure she was safe when they went to public places with less people.

God, what the Hell was wrong with her?

Years of suppressing memories into a box was slowly being undone in a matter of hours. This was so unfair.

Thankfully, traffic started up again. In no time, there were in Hale’iwa. Sherlock pulled up to a customer parking lot for Matsumoto Shave Ice. They lined up again and puzzled over the menu to decide which flavors and toppings to go with their shave ice. While waiting to place their order, Wato received a call from the consulate general that he wanted to treat the two of them to dinner. She enthusiastically accepted his invitation.

The consultant inwardly groaned. It was going to be a long week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ekahi|One  
> A’a i ka hula, waiho i ka maka’u i ka hale|Dare to dance, leave shame at home  
> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [ Desnúdate al paso mi reina y sólo ámame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822915/chapters/49498304)  
> [Hit It Off Like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You Like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Kouman to Henken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909666/chapters/34534952)  
> [Two Drifters, Off to See the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	2. ‘Elua: A’ohe pu’u ki’eki’e ke ho’a’o ‘ia e pi’i

Sherlock did not remember much of dinner, other than a distinct garlic taste that coated the shrimp. Giovanni’s Aloha Shrimp proved that seafood tasted better on the islands. The consulate general’s enthusiasm made sense when Wato said they were in Hale’iwa for shave ice. Food trucks in North Shore were highly convenient. A garlicky dinner prompted another round of shave ice. The second time was more exciting as the consulting detective and protégé were able to try new items in the second round. She was interested in trying another combination and drizzling it with condensed milk. In one bite, the lilikoi, guava, and papaya flavor was good. The consultant could see herself moving to Hawai'i and being affiliated with the Five-O.

However, that was just wishful thinking. She could not leave her beloved Tokyo. There was so much to be done to make Japanese society a better place. Not to mention, the paperwork process for permanent residency was a nightmare. With all the mess that was taking place domestically, she was better off living in Japan where it was more manageable.

It was close to 9:00 p.m. when she started yawning. Now the fatigue was catching up to her. Her friend, ever the sharp one, noticed her exhaustion. The petite woman skillfully notified the consulate general about her well being. He was understanding and allowed Friday’s excursions come to an end. The consulting detective was prepared to power through a drive back to Honolulu, but her companion outright refuse to allow her get behind the wheel. Her friend may not look like it, but she possessed an international driver’s license. As a seasoned traveler, the consultant had no doubt that she had more experience with driving on the opposite end of the road. With Wato’s determination, Sherlock had no choice but to sit at the passenger’s seat while the other adjusted the driver’s seat to give her a height boost and enable her feet to reach the pedal and brake. Once she was ready, her roommate followed the consulate general as they drove on Route 99. Driving through the island was much faster than going around. On the drive south, she spotted Dole Plantation, Waimea Valley, and the ‘Iolani Palace. She noted her attractions of interests. Now that she knew another road, she would explored the central region.

Back at the consulate general building, it was tempting to fall asleep on her bed. The top sticking to her back said otherwise. She definitely needed a shower. Sherlock wasted no time in brushing her teeth and showering. She felt clean and refresh as she walked out of the bathroom and let her companion use it next. The consulting detective drifted off to sleep soon as her head hit the pillow. Tomorrow was going to be an uphill battle. She needed her strength to endure the weekend.

***

The fact that it was Saturday morning was some sort of mind-boggling trip. The International Date Line was nothing more than an imaginary construct created by those that wanted to organize time keeping. Even though she woke up early, she could feel sweat settling in again. She quickly showered and dressed herself appropriately for today’s schedule. Both knew the importance of being prompt, hence little interaction as they got ready-much to her relief.

It took her will not to frown or glare once she saw the party behind the consulate general. She should have expected that he would bring his wife. The spouse was definitely aging more gracefully than her husband. As she was around the same age as her mom, Sherlock could not help but wonder what would her mother would look like. Her parents were attractive back then. Her mom had good foresight for skin care and made sure everyone in the family maintained good dermatology hygiene. If they were here, the consultant supposed her parents would put their peers and generation to shame.They were in a class of their own. She and Kento were merely chasing their own shadows of exceptional work and classiness in their respective professions.

Aside the consulate general and his wife was their older children, their spouses, and even grandchildren. Great, kids were involved? She could feel a headache coming through. Wato, on the other hand, positively received the new addition. As they approach the family, his wife and older children thankfully did not recognize her. They were laid back and did not question why the consulate general called her Sara-chan while Wato addressed her as Sherlock. Nonetheless, the consulting detective kept to herself. It was a no win situation to interact with anyone.

The first stop on their agenda was Dole Plantation. He explained that the plantation was accommodating to give them a private tour. The ‘Iolani Palace, on the other hand, would be reserved for tomorrow. The palace was only open for six days a week. This change was not that off putting because Dole Plantation had the largest maze in the world! She looked forward in using her cognitive skills to solve this puzzle. The party took three cars: two for the families with children and one for the consulate general and his wife. They were naturally paired with the minors free vehicle. Her opinion of the wife changed when she handed over a convenience store bag. Inside the bag was an assortment of musubi. The consultant had to admit the wife was a skilled planner. Musubi was the perfect dish for a light breakfast this early in the morning. (It was almost 7:00 a.m.) The best part of the breakfast was stuffing her face so she did not have to talk. The chicken teriyaki musubi was her favorite, hands down.

The consulting detective discovered the extent of their privilege when she glanced at the time. It was now 7:00 a.m. The plantation sign indicated they were open for business starting at 9:30 a.m. She softened her judgement on the consulate general’s hospitality. However, that did not mean she should lower her guard. She was still weary that he wanted to have one-on-one chats with her.

The party was greeted by a tour guide that spoke fluent Japanese. (The attention to detail was a nice gesture. However, she found herself liking the challenge to speak English. Even though she was bilingual, the opportunities to speak her second language were far and few in Japan. She welcomed the challenge to test her lexicon.) The first activity was a train tour. Their guide lead them to the station where a vintage train of the late 1800s was waiting for them. The paint on its engine also bore the locomotive’s name, Lady Liberty. Once everyone was seated and secured, the train took off. The passenger car had speakers attached. It narrated the history of the plantation and its founder, James Dole. She had to give the workers props for switching the audio track to Japanese.

The train ride was about a three kilometer circuit. It only lasted twenty minutes. As fascinating as the history and the grounds were, Sherlock could not help but think about the imperialism of the Hawaiian Islands over 200 years ago. Thanks to her education of studying abroad, she was not blind to whitewashing of history as many curricula tried to do. If she voiced her thoughts to Wato, the other woman would call her out for being too negative. She could imagine her friend saying had Dole not open a plantation, then pineapples would not be introduced to the world. Or something similar like that in her lectures.

The party spent time at the plantation gardens, taking pictures. She enjoyed inspecting the native plant species decorating the land. As a horticulturist, she spent time reading about different plants and its significance to a certain culture. It was almost surreal to see (and secretly touch) these plants in person. She could even smell its fragrance. The olfactory sense made it so much more real in her mind.

When the party was done touring the gardens to their heart’s content, it was time for the exciting attraction: Pineapple Garden Maze. The space was about forty-two square kilometers in size with four kilometers of walking in each path. She was so ready to get lost and make her escape. It was even a sweeter deal that their party was separated from each other. (Except for the little brats that clung to their parents while the other ones set off in a group. She heard their screaming and pointedly ignore them.) She was thankful that she did not run into her roommate. The other women seemed pretty lively with the new company. Having a large party had its merits.

Sherlock figured she was halfway completely the maze course when the foliage and landscape looked different. She distinctly recalled that the middle section was in the shape of a pineapple. The consulting detective mentally applauded her efforts.

“Sara-chan? Is that you?”

Ah, shit! She was so damned close. It was too late to run. Part of the Futaba reputation was remaining elegant and refined. If she ran now, it would make her no different from the banshees screaming bloody murder. These people knew her parents' professional personas and therefore imposed that biased perception on her and her sibling. She could not compromise her brother’s network nor professional integrity. The things she did to support Kento’s career. Besides, she faced far more dangerous enemies and even placed her life on the line. It was peculiar how her sense of preservation worked along with her definition of danger.

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. Interestingly enough, the consulate general was by himself. He seemed relieved to find another human being. Of course, it had to be her. Jeez, this was a pain.

“How are you holding up in this maze? You’re hardly breaking a sweat!”

Well, the humidity has not gone up yet. Even the sun had not broke though the clouds. She smoothly replied that she was managing well.

“I see that you’re collected like your father,” he chuckled. “Along with being persistent like your mother. They were quite a match as accomplished individuals and a team. Their idea of past time was solving puzzles together.”

The consultant said nothing.

“Forgive me for musing about the past. However, let’s use this time to catch up. How is Misaki-san doing?”

Here it was; this was a moment she anticipated for so many years. Even though she expected this, it was another matter in actually experiencing this. She willed herself not to choke up when she thought about her mom: the kind, headstrong, graceful, and beautiful woman she known.

“She passed away long ago.” The consulting detective did not feel the need to elaborate any further. The nature of her mother’s death was still confined to immediate family. It would remain classified to all outsiders.

The consulate general said nothing at first. He was caught off guard by the news. He apologized his ignorance. (As much she would love to blame him for his error, her late mother’s death was not widely publicized. She was a commoner in comparison to her father as a public figure.)

She was hoping that would be the end of discussing her family. However, he smoothly shifted topics to her and Kento. The powers of persuasion were truly frightening. With keeping her brother’s reputation in mind, she gave the condensed, censored version of their higher education backgrounds and professions. He seemed to take it well when she talked about her freelance work at the local level. Sherlock braced herself for a question about working at a higher level: Interpol. It did not materialize thanks to his wife approaching the duo. It made the consultant acutely aware of the time she was stalling.

She was invited to join them in exploring the exit, but she declined the offer. She was not blind; she knew a date when she saw one. She knew when a couple wanted alone time. Being a third wheel was not her thing.

The consulting detective waited until they disappeared before she resumed her quest. It was a good thing she traded her heels for durable and comfortable footwear.

She was awarded for her efforts with a Dole Whip from the Plantation Grille. The frozen dessert was quite famous in Hawai'i, but also in Disneyland. This simple, yet sweet novelty was refreshing and effectively cooled her down. It was almost 8:30 a.m. She could feel the heat and humidity rising. Half of the party (including herself) were enjoying the desserts on the tables while the other half was browsing in the souvenir shop. The consultant knew how pricey merchandise was in this kind of retail, but she thought about Kimie. It would be nice to buy the landlady something, especially how she took her in 221b. The consulting detective knew it was a debt the older woman was repaying to her late parents. Yet Kimie did not know the extent of how much she saved Sherlock.

One final scoop and the cold treat was nothing more than a food memory and a picture saved on her phone. She threw her trash away and walked over to the souvenir shop. Thankfully it was not crowded, but it was noisy. As she perused the items, she pointedly ignored the tacky designed T-shirts and disturbing pineapple plushies. She chortled at the official pineapple knife they were selling. She would give TSA a hard time if she took this utensil with her to the airport.

She was quite picky on which gift would fit Kimie. Her irritation was slowly bubbling. She suddenly stopped in her tracks when she saw Wato cooing at the toy bears and Hello Kitty dolls. As if sensing her presence, her friend turned around and smiled. “Sherlock, look! Aren’t these toys cute?”

Her housemate was cuter than all of them combined.

The consultant detective hummed in agreement. She remained rooted in place as her companion inspected each doll. It was another proud moment of observation.

“Have you found a gift to buy?" she asked.

"No, I haven't found something suitable for Kimie."

"I'll let you on a little secret." Her tiny hand beckoned the consultant to come closer. "Don't bother with the food gifts. They're too pricey here. You can get a better deal if you go to stores like Sam's Club, Walmart, or a drug store.”

Good to know, but how did she knew such insight?

“Ito-san's wife is a veteran shopper when it comes to buying gifts for family members.”

It looked like her opinion of the wife exponentially grew once again.

***

They left the plantation just before it was about to open. Sherlock ended up not purchasing anything, but was comforted by Wato's judgement in finding something for Kimie.

Their next stop was Waimea Valley. Thanks to the early head start of their day, the valley was not crowded with visitors. She recalled that there was a botanical garden, nature trail, and even a waterfall. Interestingly enough, there were also demonstrations for native Hawaiian crafts and traditions. She decided to check out these displays even though the botanical garden allured her. Her dad always empathized it was important to know another culture. It was an asset in diplomacy and business. It could also enrich one’s mind and broaden one’s perspective as her mom stressed. Damn, she truly forgotten about the origins of her inquisitive nature.

She walked over to the garden, not wanting to look like she was impatient for them to entertain her with knowledge. By the time she was done observing the foliage, she would return.

True to her word, she did returned. The locals noticed her and smiled. Sherlock cautiously walked over. Majority of the demonstrators were elder women with a joyful and youthful vibe. Unlike the plantation, they spoke English. It delighted her that she got to speak her second language. The consultant’s interest spiked when she learned that they were pure, native Hawaiians. They shared _mo’olelo_ , stories of their family history in connection to the valley. She listened with rapt interest as she learned how to string a lei, to build an ipu, to understand the significance of hula, and even play an ukulele. She particularly enjoyed the last one because it was a four string instrument with a tiny body. The Aunties praised her for picking it up so quickly. The consulting detective smiled to herself. None of this was possible had it not been for trimming and filing her nails constantly. To her surprise, she was quite reluctant to leave these Aunties. She enjoyed their company more than she anticipated. Yet the Aunties encouraged her to go and see the valley. They assured her that the parting was only temporary and she would find a way back to the island. To her, it was a promise to keep.

Soon as she left, there were more visitors approaching the Aunties. She had to admit, they truly had a good foresight to time her comfort around crowds. The valley afforded more solo exploration. The stories encouraged her to visit the cultural sites. From the religious grounds such as Hale o Lono, Ku’ula Shrine, and Hale Iwi to secular areas like Kauhale Kahiko and the agricultural terraces, she could feel the ancient and spiritual vibe of this land-even though the indigenous heritage was nearly wiped out, she could still sense its presence.

At the end of the main path, she stopped in her tracks. There was a beautiful waterfall that greeted her. It was about twelve meters tall and it was known as wailele. The wailele had two names: Waihe’e and Waihī. With the water gently flowing down, she understood its moniker as softly trickling water. She recalled that the Aunties said that their ancestors never defiled the Kamananui stream and wailele. She honestly understood why. It was too sacred, too precious to be touched by mankind.

Sherlock stayed as long as she wanted and then turned around and walked back to the front. As a consequence of preserving natural and sacred beauty, cell reception was nonexistent in Waimea Valley. She did not wish for a search party to find her. Her timing was perfect. They were in the valley for two and a half hours. Once again, it was a good time to make their escape. It was a holiday weekend, after all.

***

With the amount of walking the party done, it was sensible to grab lunch. From their hosts, it was decided that today’s noon meal would be saimin. Both consulting detective and protégé perked up. A noodle bowl was a source of comfort; no matter what time of day or season. The party drove back to Honnolulu. Souvenirs were dropped off at the consulate general building before they were on the road again.

They were in Kahili, a neighborhood in Honolulu. In the industrial area, the cars were driving around to find decent parking and an empty space. According to the hosts, there was a local eatery called Palace Saimin. The eatery was fairly hidden by the warehouses that surrounded the area. Her keen sight did not fail her to find the signage. Driving persistence and luck awarded the party parking spots near the eatery. Sherlock’s excitement grew when she exited the car and almost skipped closer to Palace Saimin.

It was clear that the establishment was a local hidden gem. She appreciated that the exterior camouflaged itself from prying eyes of obnoxious tourists, keeping itself open for residents only. The secrecy reminded her of cafes she loved in the older neighborhoods of Tokyo. These eateries were not part of famous businesses that were featured in travel guides, but maintained a reputation by word of mouth. As a haven for locals (with good food), it was guaranteed to stay in business.

Being inside Palace Saimin also gave that vibe. It was quite plain, barred for a maneki neko sitting on a shelf. Yet there was a homey and laid back atmosphere. The consulting detective allowed herself to relax. As a specialty shop, there was a limited number of items on the menu. (She noticed that this was a trend for small businesses here. It should not be a surprise due to its close ties to Asian cultures.) The tables were long enough to fit the entire party. The kids were on the opposite end of the consultant. Wato was her buffer from the rambunctious minors. The only drawback was the consulate general and his wife joining them.

A kind waiter approached them and explained the menu items. While the consulate general was translating for her companion’s benefit, she was analyzing the worker's speech. She noticed that the locals (particularly the Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders) spoke slow and almost melodic; it was akin to riding a wave, an up and down rhythm. As he spoke English, she noticed the slang, the phonology, and a mixed lexicon of words strung into a sentence. It had been a while since she studied linguistics, but she ventured it was creole.

Her friend gently tapped her shoulder to break her reverie. Afterwards, she was asked to place her order. She automatically said it English, perfect Cambridgeshire pronunciation and all. The waiter dutifully wrote down her order and moved to the next table. While the worker and herself were unfazed with the English, the same could not be said for the other three sitting with her. First, Wato looked flushed. Sherlock surmised it was the temperature (which was now 29ºC) and gestured her to drink some water. Next, the consulate general looked impressed. He was most likely reminiscing some glory day moment of her parents. Based on everyone’s recollection, her parents were essentially a power couple of the eighties and nineties. The possibility of him idolizing them was a threat to her saimin mood. Then the wife’s reaction was a faraway, dreamy look. It reminded her of Kimie. Out of the three, the wife might be the most dangerous one. The consultant took a sip of her water.

“Sherlock-san and Tachibana-san, what do you two do for work?”

“We’re consulting detectives,” the petite woman chimed in. She proclaimed that with so much pride.

(Her lips tugged into a small smile.)

“Consulting detectives,” she repeated. “So you two are private investigators in a sense?”

“That’s right; our clientele is diverse. We even assist the police on some of their cases.” Actually, it was pretty much all of them for Section 1. One of the sweetest traits of her friend was always having nice things to say about others.

The wife remained silent as she processed the information. “So you two are like reversed _Magnum_!”

Ma…

 _Magnum_?

What the Hell was that?

Her mental dictionary opened as her mind recalled the definition.

magnum |ˈmaɡnəm|  
noun (pl. **magnums** )  
ORIGIN: l **ate 18th century; from Latin, neuter (used as a noun) of _magnus_ ‘great.’**  
-A wine bottle of twice the standard size, normally 1¹/² liters.  
-(often **Magnum** ) [ often as modifier ] trademark a gun designed to fire cartridges that are more powerful than its caliber would suggest  
-A thing of a type that is larger than normal

The last entry was embedded in her mind, no thanks to a certain Japanese American actress she recalled as her roommate back in college. She was taught more American slang than she ever wanted.

Back to the wife, it unleashed a new conversation topic. “With Sherlock-san playing the quintessentially English role, do you have any connections to the Middle East, Tachibana-san? Oooh! Or staying at some luxury estate in Tokyo? Do you also own dogs?”

This time, both women looked lost. None of them even knew how to begin with answering the wife’s questions. The consulate general gave them a sympathetic look. “Please excuse my wife. She is a big fan of Amy Hill.” Okay, but that did not clarify anything. They were more confused than ever. The topic was mercifully dropped when the waiter returned with bowls of saimin and plates of barbecue sticks and wontons. Everything smelled so good.

Her keen nosed picked up the wafting aroma from the bowl. She raised her hand to wave the fragrance closer. First and foremost, it had a distinct smell. She knew dashi and dried shrimp were common ingredients in a saimin broth. Yet she could not tell by smell alone. She felt a poke to her side, informing her to eat while it was still hot.

She grabbed a pair of chopsticks and began eating. To her surprise, the broth was not salty. It had an umami taste that her taste buds were trying to analyze in vain. The noodles themselves were thin and absorbed the broth nicely. The toppings of green onions and char siu completed the soup. Of course, she could not forget the barbecue sticks and wontons. Both were prepared and cooked well, but saimin took precedence.

It was immature to assume that lunch would go by swiftly (since the establishment was quite small). It was peculiar that the eatery was not crowded today. This condition afforded the party to eat at a more leisure pace and socialize. Her saving grace was Wato conversing. Her friend talked about herself in an easy going way to nosy minds. That was an innate talent the consultant could never achieve. That was something that could not be developed by hard work. She continued munching on barbecue sticks to avoid being called out.

The afternoon schedule was free time. The consulate general had last minutes meetings; he took his leave first. The younger children were sleepy so their parents shepherded them home to nap. The older ones still had energy to burn. They were rounded up to go to Hālona Blowhole. Wato, the consulate general’s wife, and her daughters (both biological and in-laws) were going to Aulani for a spa and massage session. The consulting detective was invited to join them, but she remembered that it was also a resort owned by Disney. Although it was out of character for her, she felt more at home with nature. She loved the solitude while being immersed in tropical foliage. They respected her decision, but persuaded her to join them at the leeward side, there were trails and parks she could explore. Sherlock weighed her options: it was a company of ladies to Kapolei or a drive back to the consulate general building with the man himself. Going to the Leeward Coast was the lesser of two evils.

***

Walking around definitely burned off the calories she consumed in the past few days. It also made her reflect. She knew she was different from everyone and lacked the means to be social. She was incredibly blessed to have so many people in her life that understood and accepted her. Some went above and beyond to protect her and diffuse any social blunders she made. In the past, she was content with the people she trusted to clean up her mess. They were also complicit to allow her get away with the antics she caused. Now she was more mindful of her actions because of Tachibana Wato.

That tiny woman not only empathized with her, but also scolded Sherlock when she took things too far. It was her that the consultant recognized unspoken boundaries of appropriateness. She learned so much from her friend, yet she still had ways to go. Just as Wato did not want to disappoint her when they investigated, she found herself not wanting her roommate to be sad and upset by her actions as well. They grew much closer in the time they spent together in 221b. She wanted to retain that closeness, but being in Hawai’i was threatening to undo all that. From the bottom of her heart, she truly did not want to be a jerk. However, there were some boundaries that should never be crossed. She wanted to protect herself and the only way she knew how: keeping her distance.

The consultant stopped in her tracks. Right now, she returned from her hike at Ka'ena Point. She was on her way to Mākaha Beach. Although she made a vow to avoid sand, her feet had a mind of their own. With her mind preoccupied about Wato, it was logical to say it was an unconscious reaction.

It was always in her nature to move forward, to live in the present and plan for the future. In a sense, time was a construct that she adhered to-more or less. There was never a moment when she slowed down, pause, and reflect. Most of her life, she lived in island countries. Japan and the UK never gave that vibe to take things at a leisure pace. Only Hawai’i, a mere state, had that power over her.

Now she was some kind of postmodern Romanticist in a tropical setting instead of the English countryside. Here, she was at the beach, not the White Cliffs of Dover, analyzing her actions towards Wato. There was something heavy in her chest at the mere thought of hurting her companion. The feeling of disappointment was more powerful and profound than any physical wound. Perhaps that metamorphic weight was more about repeating the past. The consultant believed that was an action she would never be forgiven for. Even with all her grievances towards that person, that person held sentimental value for Wato.

In the midst of reflecting, it struck her that her attention and investment of time were directed at Tachibana Wato. How did this tiny woman had influence over her? How did her heart opened up to include one more? How was she different from her brother, her landlady, her police contacts, and her alumna-celebrity acquaintance? What made her so special and unique? The ringing of her phone broke her concentration. Speak of the devil: it was her roommate.

The call was to inform her that their group was done at the resort. They were heading back to the parking lot and wondering about her whereabouts. (Perhaps it was a good call to wander to the beach.) In no time, she was picked up and en route to Honolulu. While driving on Route 93, the consultant tried her hardest to not glance at Wato. She avoided gazing at her hair in a bun (which was so rare), the flower hair clip on the right side, the smoothness of her skin, and the refreshing countenance glow that only came from a spa. The lingering scent of gardenia massaging oil was certainly going to haunt Sherlock to the evening hours.

The short reprieved was taking a second shower and reading a history book (published by University of Hawai'i) in the library. She was halfway through reading when dinner was announced. The feast was held in the private courtyard of the consulate general building. The spread was the beloved favorites of a plate lunch: kalua pork, kalbi short ribs, huli huli chicken, chicken katsu, lau lau, garlic shrimp, heaps of macaroni salad, and never ending rice.

Eating good food was one method to uplift her mood. Sadly, her mood took a dive.

“Tachibana-san, may I ask where you and Sara-chan will be planning to visit for the rest of the week?”

“I plan to see Polynesian Culture Center, Ala Moana, Lanikai, and Hanauma while Sherlock wants to visit Diamond Head, ‘Iolani Palace, and a couple of trails.”

The consulate general hummed in approval. It was clear that he was glad for planning the Dole Plantation and ‘Iolani Palace visit.

“You mentioned Ala Moana Beach,” his wife spoke up. “Are you planning to visit the Lantern Floating Festival on Monday?”

Her companion perked up. “No, what’s that?”

Sherlock immediately tuned them out. She made sure she finished her plate before retreating. It was shame. The food was truly amazing, but what was the point of eating when the dinner was unpleasant?

The consulting detective retrieved her book and selected a couple more of historical works to read. She confined herself to reading until she felt drowsy. She managed to finish three books (that were over 300 pages) before she retired for the night.

***

The next morning, she had leftovers for breakfast. The consultant did not mind the extra protein; she would need it for today’s excursion: ‘Iolani Palace, Diamond Head, and various attraction sites of the windward side.

It was decided to visit Diamond Head first. The cool, overcast weather, and the lack of visitors was highly appealing to all members of the party. For Sherlock, Sunday truly began when she first started hiking up the trail. The trail itself was long and winding. It was marked with displays telling its natural history (as an extinct volcano) and the military involvement. There was an audio tour feature, but none of the amenities were appealing to her.

There were two paths upward: one with a series of stairs, slopes, a tunnel, a lookout post, and a bunker; the other one with a metal staircase. The consultant liked to think her long strides and hiking experience from yesterday gave her the advantage to travel up to the summit at a faster pace. Hence she took the longer one. By the time she reached the summit, she was awarded a breathtaking view of Waikīkī, the bays, and even the mountain ranges behind her. The greatest surprise, however, was seeing Wato taking scenic pictures as well.

She totally beat Sherlock! It was another testament to not underestimate a woman that had a shorter stature than her.

Her companion was dressed for the outdoors. Her long hair was swept into a bun again. Behind her right ear, there was the same flower hair clip. The consulting detective noticed it was a gardenia and wondered what was the significance of placing it on the right side.

There was not a day where the consultant valued her stealth skills. Her friend was unaware of her presence and she was content to stay back and observe the scenery before her.

It could not get better with an overcast morning, the white clouds ran parallel to the ocean blue. They never touched, yet they worked in tandem to reflect another side of nature. Her ears felt the flowing wind and hair strands swaying to and fro. It picked up the sounds of the oceans waves gently roaring below. The ebb and flow gradually melted into a familiar introduction of steel string guitars playing. It was the same song that was stuck in her head for days; the same song that played on the radio.

As a montage, Wato seemed to sense her presence and turned around.

_Sometimes I ponder_

_When I look in your eyes_

_And then makes me come to realize_

“Sherlock!” she cried out, happiness radiating not only from her countenance, but also her whole body. The consulting detective could tell her feelings were genuine. The corner of her lips tugged as a conditioned response. Her companion accepted her answer and beckoned the freelancer to come closer to the balcony. “Isn’t the view amazing?” she gushed before returning her attention back to the sea.

Instead of focusing on the body of water, her eyes gravitated to the center of attractive force. The hair ornament displayed wonderful craftsmanship. Even though her hair was pulled back, Sherlock had the urge to run her hand through those long locks and tuck it behind the equally cute and tiny ear.

_From the fragrant blossom of gardenias in your hair_

_To the misty rains that form the columns in the air_

_From the ever changing tides that hit the shore_

_I need you more and more and more_

She did not act on her impulse and kept her hand down. The consulting detective obliged to a selfie with Wato. She made an effortto focus on the camera and smile. She hoped her expression was enough to mask the acute sensation of that tiny hand firmly secured on her waist.

_Sometimes I notice_

_From the touch of your hand_

_Then all at once I start to understand_

***

There was only one word to describe while walking up to the ‘Iolani Palace itself: majestic. Staying up to read the history was worth it. She was not a specialist in history, but her learning retention was an asset. Being at a historical site made all the historical figures in the books come to life. She was still at the gate entrances! Standing before the gate reminded her of Buckingham Palace. She was quite young to have concrete memories, but the photo showing a family of four posing at the entrance was proof.

As a private tour, their group waited for a docent to arrive. It did not take long for their guide to greet them. Like Dole Plantation, the volunteer was bilingual. Yet Sherlock found herself tuning out to his spiel as she looked around. She recalled the information from historiography and associated her knowledge to the displays and the like.

For instance, the Grand Hall was known for its koa wood structures, ocean blue carpet, and portraits of the monarchs. There werealso gifts from foreign rulers (like a vase from Emperor Meiji). Although it was a sign of luxury and artistry of the late nineteenth century; yet she knew this was a diplomatic stunt. It was a political gambit to flaunt monarchy identity in an era where empires were declining and colonialism was at an all time high. The other rooms of the palace: throne, blue, state dining, music, the King’s quarters, the Queen’s quarters, and the King’s Office also displayed a blend of Hawaiian culture, international flair, and technological innovation. (She loved that the palace had the telephone and electricity way before the White House did. That was pretty cool.)

She managed to be collected as they toured different rooms, but slightly faltered when they reached the Imprisonment Room. As the docent explained Liliuokalani’s history, the consultant felt sadness and frustration over the fate of Hawai'i’s final ruler.She knew how it was to be a captive of cruel, injustice fate. Yet that pain was nothing compared to the indigenous people who were victims of colonialism and the descendants that were still treated unfairly. This was not limited to native Hawaiians and Native Americans under the United States. It happened everywhere, like the Ainu and Ryukyuan communities. It was damn frustrating.

She stiffened when a small hand touched the lower half of her back. She glanced to the side, it was her friend with a concerned look on her face. “Sherlock, the others went downstairs. Let’s catch up to them, okay?” Wato refused to move until the consulting detective nodded her head. She allowed the petite woman to lead the way. The more they continued walking around the palace grounds, the more she reflected on her housemate’s incredible emotional intelligence and how it rubbed off of her. Her past self would not bother to empathize the lasting effects of American imperialism and treachery to Native Hawaiians. Yet, here she was.

The women joined the consulate general, his wife, and the docent down at the basement where they saw the true operations of running the palace. It was quite plain comparing to the ground level since this area was reserved for servants. Then they returned outside where they saw the coronation pavilion, Keliiponi Hale, the Sacred Mound, Hale Koa, and the Kanaina Building. Due to a smaller touring group, their agenda ended at a much faster pace. It was not even late morning yet.

***

With her interest indulged, it was Wato’s turn to visit the places she wanted. One of them was the Polynesian Cultural Center. It was a theme park and living museum that showed Polynesian cultures: Fijian, Hawaiian, Maori, Marquesan, Samoan, Tahitian, and Tongan. From its accolades, it was a popular attraction, but to her, it screamed tourism, particularly white washed tourism. (Again, she was not an expert, but she had a brilliant mind and read the academia literature. It was not hard to put together.) Yet, this was where her friend wanted to go. Therewas not much she could do about it. It was their luck that the cultural center was closed today. That did not stop any of them to explore the windward coast of O'ahu. Sherlock grinned when she saw the signs: Nu'uanu Pali Lookout and Makapu'u Point Light. Hiking was quickly becoming her favorite past time. She was about to take off when the consulate general called her over. “Sorry, Sara-chan; I know how much you like your hiking, but we want to show you something.”

Rather than going to the coast, they walked to the Ko'oalau Range. They descended down to green lush valley known as the Valley of the Temples Memorial Park. It was a resting place with scores of fresh native flowers to remember loved ones. In the middle of the valley was a Buddhist temple. She recognized the temple as a small scaled replica of the world heritage site, Byodo-in in Uji.

“This temple was to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the first Japanese immigrants to Hawai'i back in 1968,” he explained. “I though you might like this.”

“I see,” she quietly replied. She actually hated this. Was this consulate general honestly expecting her to join him with honoring her late father and mother? He was a grown ass man! He could damn well did as he pleased without her and Kento! Had he not done enough to her?

Like the ‘Iolani Palace, she remained rooted on the spot as the consulate general and his wife walked ahead. Wato did walked a few meters then stopped and turned around. Then she sprinted back. “Sherlock, what’s wrong? You haven’t been okay since we arrived in Hawai’i.”

The consultant remained quiet.

“Don’t you dare lie to me or deny anything. I know what I saw.”

Of course she did; Tachibana Wato learned from the best after all. Her friend was becoming a fine consulting detective. A wistful smile graced Sherlock’s face. “You’re right; I haven’t been okay on this trip. However, it started much earlier. It was when Ani told me about the arrangements he made.”

“This has do with the Lantern Floating Festival and Ito-san keeps talking about your late father?”

“Yes.”

“Sherlock!” she groaned. “Why didn’t you say anything to me? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have diffused the situation!”

Wato never looked so cute pouting in front of her. From the worried look to the puffy cheeks, the petite woman was utterly adorable. She was too precocious, wearing her heart on her sleeves and easily has no qualms about speaking her mind of sharing what was she was feelings. It was all too easy for her and conversely difficult for Sherlock.

The consulting detective cleared her throat. “Wato is Wato and I’m me. Some things come easier and more natural for you.”

Her housemate frowned. “It doesn’t have to be this way! You can change-“ The consultant cut her off by placing her hand in the front.

“I need to be alone. I have to get going.” She made a perfect 180° and ran up the trail, not looking back. She passed the consulate general’s car. She did not have a spare key and also knew better than to break in, hot wire it, and take it for a spin around the island. (Or go back to the consulate general building, pack her belongings and catch the next flight to anywhere.) Therefore, she walked on the trail path, watching the cars and trucks passing by. Her aimless wander made her miss the routes for the lookout post and hiking path. She might as well walk to Hale’iwa at this point.

Her keen ears picked up a vehicle rolling next to her. It made a full stop and the passenger window rolled down. There were two guys of Filipino descent. Although they were wearing sunglasses, they had a concern of worry.

“Dat’s a long walk to North Shore, y’know,” the first one commented.

“You wan’ a ride? We can take you there. It be much faster,” the second man quipped.

She took a closer glance. Both were tan and their hair looked brittle and dry from constant immersion in sea water. She also noticed they were wearing rash guards and board shorts. If that was not enough, there were long boards fastened to the car racks.

Rule of thumb: never get into a stranger’s car, especially in a foreign country. For some reason, she could sense no malicious intent from these two men.

“Sure.”

The car door unlocked and she ducked into the backseat. She was on her way to North Shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Elua|Two  
> A’ohe pu’u ki’eki’e ke ho’a’o ‘ia e pi’i|No cliff is so tall it cannot be climbed  
> Ipu|a percussion instrument made from gourds  
> Waihe‘e|softly trickling water  
> Waihī|purging water
> 
> The song Sherlock listened on the radio: Na Leo Pilimehana's [ "Hawai'i Nei."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwoV8NWd-l4)
> 
> More information about the 'Iolani Palace can be found [here.](https://www.iolanipalace.org=)
> 
> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [ Desnúdate al paso mi reina y sólo ámame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822915/chapters/49498304)  
> [Hit It Off Like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You Like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Kouman to Henken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909666/chapters/34534952)  
> [Two Drifters, Off to See the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	3. ‘Ekolu: Aloha aku no, aloha mai mo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was drafted prior to Takeuchi Yuko's passing. There is a new dimension of gravity woven into theme of the story. Everyone, please take care, continue to check on each other, and send love.

Being stuck on a two lane highway with everyone going way below the speed limit (at least 48 km/h), provided a wealth of information that would not help her in the slightest. For instance, the creole her driver kept talking in was called Hawaiian Pidgin. “Don't even try to speak Pidgin,” the driver warned. "It's a language of pride fo’ da locals.” Sherlock fought to roll her eyes. Why would she want to emulate it? There was no chance she could imitate the creole, not with her Cambridgeshire accent she worked hard to perfect. Yet she understood where he was coming from. Everyone that spoke Pidgin were all the non-white residents. She detected that it was an unspoken rule. 

Besides, she could relate to the irritation-ranging from mild annoyance to full blown offense-when some Americans were arrogant enough to impress the English by utterly butchering the Received Pronunciation. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she murmured. The two men hummed in approval. Was it too much to ask that would be the end of their conversation? Sadly it was not.

Another lesson she learned today: talk story. Its etymology was simple enough to analyze. Talk story was conversing. It was not idle chat, it was more like sharing one's life story. The two Filipinos kicked it off with sharing their family history (apparently they were cousins) then they focused on her. After all, she was a Japanese woman with a British accent. (Their words, not hers.) It was truly her luck that these men had no malicious intent. She entertained them with smattering details about herself. By the time she finished, Sherlock was certain that they were convinced she was a MI6 agent on vacation. After sufficiently talking about herself, the two men talked about themselves once again. Apparently they were owners for a small airplane company. She also learned that airfare between islands were significantly cheaper than flying to and from the mainland.

Traffic moved at a steady pace.

***

The car easily backed up into the parking lot. Then the ignition was switched off. “All pau,” he announced, “welcome to North Shore.” Beyond the wall of park cars was the horizon of the ocean. It was faint with the sand and people in the middle and foreground. Now that her objective was fulfilled, there was no reason to stay. She expressed her thanks and bade them farewell as they retrieved their boards. Before exiting the parking lot, she heard them cry one last piece of advice.

“Do not turn your back on da wave!”

Even though there was over eleven kilometers of sand and shore, she had no intention to dive in the water. Instead, she wandered around town, noting its sharp contrast to Honolulu. The state capitol was every bit of a city, an urban sprawl within a tropical island. Even with a laid back lifestyle, life was up a tempo in the presence of skyscrapers and concrete jungle. Outside of Honolulu, life slowed down even more. There was a charm in walking around Hale’iwa. It made her feel more like a local than a tourist. One thing she did not expect was wild chickens running around fearlessly and picking leftovers in the trash. Perhaps it was the abundance of seafood or the marinated beef and pork made chicken the less popular protein option? Nevertheless, she carefully guarded her garlic shrimp. The last thing she wanted was being another statistic for mankind versus gallus gallus domesticus.

She opted to walk around before going back to Matsumoto. Hopefully the line would dwindled down by the time she would return. Walking on North Shore did wonders to burn off her lunch. There was a picnic table where she took a short reprieve from walking. With her mind cleared and hunger satiated, she thought about her plans to travel back and facing the inevitable aftermath. There was no question that her action was terrible. She had no explanation to justify her deeds. Time to put her brilliant mind to work.

It could have been put to work had it not been from the distraction in the sky.

She saw a helicopter flying in a circle above her. Hopefully it was a commercial one giving an aerial tour of the island or a news chopper. Anything would be better than a police aircraft hovering to find a missing person. She shuddered to think of the resources at the consulate general’s disposal to find her. She narrowed her eyes at the flying machine. Hopefully it would leave in the next ten minutes.

Ten minutes passed and she was starting to have doubts about that chopper when it finally flew away. Should she start running to Waimea Valley?

Even before she considered it, there was a SUV that came into a halt in the parking lot. Since it was so big and had a white body paint, it completely stood out. There were no markings painted on the door. That was somewhat not a good sign. Part of her hope it was a civilian vehicle looking for a parking space. The other half of her remained skeptical. As a consulting detective, she could not take anything at face value.

Soon the car door opened and she watched a familiar person hopped out. There went her one last hope. She knew that petite figure anywhere. The parked vehicles masked that short stature. It was only a matter of time Sherlock would be spotted. She was no stranger to hide and seek and it would be a good exercise to sharpen her elusive skills. Despite the appealing (and thrilling) benefits, her heart knew it was wrong. It was easy to choose logic. She done that her whole life and never looked back. It was harder to choose compassion. Empathy completely scared the shit out of her. It was everything she was not. There was a thin line that protected every fiber of her being from these emotions. That string quickly becoming frayed, quickly becoming undone. It was a matter of moments before she would be tumbling into the unknown.

“You got a lot of nerve.”

It was only years of practice that she minimized her jumpiness at sudden moment and sound. The small margin of error served as a reminder that she was only human. Tachibana Wato was the embodiment of her vulnerability. The consultant slowly raised her eyes from ground up. She stopped at her friend’s face. Normally she would note how cute and squishy her face was when her cheeks puffed up in frustration. 

Sadly it was not the case.

It was an understatement that Wato was upset. The detective protégé was _furious_. Even the flower in her hair could not soften her fury. It was a wonder that she had not scream obscenities or raised her voice. 

Yet.

It was always the mild mannered ones that were frightening once their patience ran out. That single sentence was a tip on the iceberg. 

The best action? She nodded her head in acknowledgement. Perhaps that was her safest option to break the ice.

“I am deeply disappointed in you, Sherlock. More than I was almost two years ago and that says a lot.” It really did; those were the most harrowing cases they faced together. The consequences of her actions now outweighed her past actions.

She nodded once more, keeping her mouth shut. Again, what more could she say?

"Your behavior on this trip has been appalling and completely disrespectful to Ito-san and his wife. And yet that is not what disappointments me the most." The petite woman let her words linger, dampening the atmosphere.

"I know verbalizing your words is not your strong point and that's fine. I don't care about that. What I _do_ care about is you not coming to me when you were feeling bothered. How could Ito-san known he was unintentionally upsetting you? How was I supposed to help you when you don't say anything? We're supposed to be partners, Sherlock."

She agreed, they were partners. She tried to maintain a sense of professional relationship. Obviously it evolved into something so much more than she dared to dream of.

"We are," the consulting detective replied. “Like I said, Wato is Wato and I’m me. We’re two different people working together. It’s only natural we have different lines of thinking.”

“And yours is to flee without a word to anyone?” Wato challenged. The verbal barb stung. It rubbed her the wrong way.

Sherlock jumped to her feet. “I said I needed to be alone!”

Her housemate fired back. “Being alone did not mean running up that slope and jumping into a stranger’s car!” Damn, she saw that? Wato was faster than she anticipated.

“Nothing happened! I’m fine!”

“Not emotionally!”

“I meant physically! I’m still in one piece!”

“Not the point, Sherlock!”

She stamped her feet. “Then what is the point? I want to be left alone! I want some space! Why can’t I have that?” Her outburst stunned the petite woman. With that, Sherlock side stepped her friend and ran again.

***

The freelancer hated not having a game plan. If she was actually using her head, she would be retreating inland. Instead she was running towards the ocean. She grimaced as more sand seeped into her shoes and socks. The grainy feeling was completely uncomfortable. Not to mention, the shore hindered her speed.

Suddenly she found herself becoming a victim of gravity. Whether it was her head not in the game of escaping or this rough, coarse, irritating byproduct of minerals and rocks hampered her motor skills; Sherlock found herself face planted on the ground. Her lips kissed the surface, some particles deviously brushed against her tongue. Her sensitive palate caused her face to twist in disgust. It was a completely different matter when it came to taste. Disgusting.

As if her fall from grace was not humiliating enough, the sand was _wet_. She cringed at the salty tang on her tongue. Her body gagged in reflex, determined to expel the foul sensation. She sat upright, cringing more at the damp contact on her capris. Her top did not fare any better. Great, now she had sand sticking to her clothes!

By the time she finished recovering, she sensed Wato’s tiny yet formidable presence right behind her. The aura radiating from the other woman was too powerful to ignore. Sherlock slowly stood up and turned around. She knew better than to take off again.

“You really got a lot of nerve. I swear, you really are a pain in the ass.”

That was a first to hear her swear. The consultant was not going to lie; it was kind of hot. Conversely, it also reflected how much she fucked up.

“Are you going to try and run away again?”

“No ma’am.” Where did that come from? Not that it mattered when her friend was looking at her intensely. She was not used to being the recipient of scrutinization.

"When you talk about needing space, there is nothing wrong with it. Everyone needs time alone for mental wellness,” Wato began. “It is _not_ okay when you’re isolating, pushing away from those that care about you, and suffering in silence. That’s no way to live. All you’re doing is making yourself miserable and perpetuating the pain. It’s equally painful for those also watching from a distance and unable to do anything to help you.”

In other words, her friend was bothered by her attempts to lock herself away and indulge in that illusion of being fine. She was sure that Kento, Kimie, Irene, Reimon, and Shibata shared the same sentiments, but Tachibana Wato was outspoken. This tiny, yet mighty woman was not afraid to raise her voice. It was clear that she did not want Sherlock to drown in that dark path. 

Despite the damp and grimy feeling on her skin and clothes, her chest felt very warm. It was akin to being submerge in a hot bath. There was only one cause that catalyst was the woman before her. Just like the waves crashing into the rocks behind her, everything was making sense. That warmth she was simultaneously missing and denying encompassed her. She wanted more of it. She wanted to reach out, grab it, and never, ever let it go.

Reading her mind, her friend offered her tiny hand. It was soon covered by a larger one. With a secured grip and a tug, Sherlock was propelled upright. The consultant truly underestimated the strength of her housemate again. 

She only had a second to gather her bearings before she was tugged closer and two arms wrapped around her waist. While secured in a tight embrace, the consulting detective had no other option but to reciprocate. Her long arms encompassed the short stature and held on equally taught. Her grasp remained fastened even when her muscles burned, unused to clinging for so long. She refused to move. Only Wato would say the word, then she would comply.

“Don't walk away from me, Sherlock,” Wato murmured. ”Don’t go where I can’t follow. My heart doesn’t want to hurt anymore. Please don’t do that again.”

The consultant pointedly ignored her heightened awareness of Wato’s head lying against her chest and focused on her friend’s words. Four simple sentences were incredibly profound. Every now and then, the haunting shrills from that fateful night still invaded her dreams. No matter how pragmatic she needed to be, all reasoning crumbled when there were tears. It was powerful enough to buckle and to choke up on her words. Instead of responding, she lowered her head and pressed her lips against the temple of Wato's forehead. It felt like the right thing to do.

Eventually, Sherlock felt a shift around her midsection. Wato's arms ached and untangled itself from her waist. After being acclimated to close contact, the freelancer found herself missing it. The warmth was a sensation that she never wanted to be without. The detective protégé’s foresight amazed her once again. She shuffled over and hooked her left arm with Sherlock’s right. She did not mind Wato’s decision to remain by her side. She could not help but notice that her friend strategically put herself inland while Sherlock was next to the shore. It was an effective set up to prevent the consulting detective from running again. 

Bravo, Tachibana Wato.

***

The eleven kilometer walk was mostly in silence. They were barefoot as they trekked the white sandy shores. As Sherlock held her footwear in her left hand, she noted that her clothes were slowly drying. It was not until they reached Waimea Bay that they resumed talking.

Her feet suddenly came to a halt. The abrupt change broke Wato’s hold. The petite woman glanced at the consulting detective with a quizzical look. “Sherlock?”

“My mother,” the freelancer choked. “Mama died from cancer-gallbladder.” The dam of verbiage locked away in her mind and heart surged upward and past her lips. She was at the brink of rambling. Why was she talking about her mom? That literally came out of nowhere, but there were no take backs, only moving forward. There was no guarantee that she would not make sense. Sherlock glanced at Wato. It was a time like this that she was profoundly glad for her friend’s medical background. She did not need to elaborate further how rare and dangerous this disease was.

“All that time she looked fine until she was not. By the time they found it, it was too late. Those were the longest four months of my life. I watched my beautiful and fierce Mama languished into a shadow of herself. She lost so much weight! It was so hard to watch, it was the hardest goodbye I ever done.”

“Yet you and Kento-san were by her side until the end,” Wato interjected. “I’m sure those moments meant the world to her.”

She ducked her head and looked away. “Losing a battle to cancer was inevitable, but the grief was expected. So I had time to prepare myself.”

“Even if you do that, grief doesn’t work that way. Your grieving shows how much love your mom and how important she was to you.” 

That was such a classy and empathetic response from the detective protégé. There was no one like Tachibana Wato. Just when Sherlock thought she seen it all, the other woman continued to surprise her.

“When I was back in Syria, one of the American doctors was a huge sports fan. We were on a lunch break when he was streaming an award show. The recipient for one of the accolades was a sportscaster. It was hard to follow, but I do recall one thing he said.”

The consultant held her breath.

“‘When you die, it does not mean that you lost to cancer. You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and the manner in which you live.’”

In a single swoop, Sherlock exhaled. She had no idea how much she needed to hear those words. “You’re amazing, Wato. You are truly brilliant.” She truly meant that from her heart.

“Thank you.” She could tell Wato was beaming with pride. It was rare for her to give out compliments and acknowledgements. She truly put her friend through the ringer when they first started out.

“Sherlock?” the other woman prodded as she stepped forward. Surely there was a second question at the tip of her tongue. Was it about walking? Her father? Or something else all together?

The consulting detective decided to gamble. “My grief for Papa was different.”

“How so?”

“His death was so sudden and unexpected. He was always busy as the consulate general, always traveling and always staying late in his office to get work done. Yet he never failed to call to say he was coming home soon. I always savored those moments to hear his voice on the phone. Forty-five minutes after his call, his car was struck by a lorry at the Mayfair roundabout. His death did not feel real until the landline remained silent the next night.”

She paused, exhaled, then continued on. “He always made me feel safe whenever he held me in his strong arms. I never told him that I was being bullied at school, but I’m sure he knew. He carried me back to bed after I snuck out to greet him once he returned.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “I mean, Mama was there too, but…”

“But he was your hero.”

“Yes, he was. I loved Mama, but Ani was very close to her. His passing was difficult, but Mama had it the worst. When she became a widow and single parent, I knew I had to grow up and become independent to not burden her too much. So I pushed down my grief and forced myself to put a distance from emotions. It was my steely resolve for twenty-seven years. When the consulate general and his staff kept talking about Papa, all the grief swelled up. He also asked about Mama! Even though so many years passed, it still felt like yesterday. I really thought I would get over it when I cast it away. Why can’t I get over it? Why can’t I let it go?”

Instead of responding, Wato dashed forward and captured her in another tight hug.

“Processing grief is different for everyone,” she explained. “My new therapist told me that time does help to heal wounds, but there are some grievances that will never completely heal. And that’s okay; there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Is that the same for you?”

“Yes, I was sad when Akiko-san died, but I still shed tears when I think about Sensei. He truly saved me when I was abroad.” Her mind quickly made parallels between Dr. Mizuno and Papa.

How long did it take the two of them together, to be in tuned with each other, to be in synced? She could feel a new day was about to begin. In that moment, she was in a perfect world. Another firm embrace signified her promise to squeeze away all of Wato’s sadness. All Sherlock wanted to do was to envelop her in warmth, to protect her, and to love her.

Out of nowhere, the consultant felt those tiny hands gently rubbed her back. The touch was quite welcoming and so soothing. She decided right then and there that Wato needed to do this forever. The petite woman eventually broke away far too soon for the freelancer's liking. However, she remained within arm length. Her friend glanced up with such gentleness yet such intensity. It was a contradiction that she effortlessly made it look easy. The two women were at a standstill. Sherlock's amplified heartbeat and bated breath drowned out the other auditory stimuli. All her focus was concentrated on the woman before her.

Who would make the first move?

The shorebreak behind her answered her question. Her backside was slammed with an intense aquatic force. The wave was probably close to a meter, yet it was powerful enough to knock her off her feet. Sherlock landed on her back, now covered with more sand and seawater grime. It was the least of her worries when she felt herself being _dragged_ into the sea. The grace under fire she always carried was shattered. The waves were overpowering her efforts to get up. If she did not do something quick, then she would be in a more precarious situation. The consultant detective knew everything about buoyancy, but it was a completely different matter when it came to practical application. Her swimming abilities were left to be desired.

As she continued slip away from the shore, she recalled the warnings the two Filipinos cried out to her. " _Do not turn your back on da wave!_ ” If only she ran inland, then she would not be in this situation! At least Irene was not here to see her floundering pathetically like this. That celebrity would never let it down.

Her thoughts were disrupted from a powerful grip that anchored her in place. She was soon pulled up to her feet thanks to a lifeguard. The lifeguard guided her back to shore where she was received with open arms from the other woman. Sherlock translated the lifeguard's message to check for injuries. The consulting detective was grateful that it was Wato prodding her. She relished in her friend’s presence and waited until she received clearance. Afterwards, they retreated to a public facility were Sherlock used the shower to rinse off the seashore’s parting gifts.

***

It would be ideal to have a proper shower, but this was better than nothing. She felt marginally cleaner by the time she stepped out. Her chest warmed up again by the sight of Wato waiting for her with a towel in hand. Sherlock accepted the cloth and patted herself dry. The shower was refreshing against the humidity, but the last thing she needed from her chaotic paradise adventure was catching a cold. She would get lectured more by her friend.

The petite woman guided her to a bench where they were safely away from the ocean and her clothes could air dry while sitting. Too bad they were far from Matsumoto. She needed comfort in the form of shave ice. The consultant was granted alternative care when Wato sat close to her and wrapped her arm around Sherlock’s waist. It was clear that the ordeal made Wato more physical. The corporeal sensation was the truth the detective protégé needed to prove that she was alive, real, and still here. The freelancer was more than happy to be enveloped and to sink into such comfort. It was practically a lifetime since she felt this safe. 

“How are you feeling?” the petite woman asked. She casually tilted her head and rested it on Sherlock’s shoulders. The consulting detective dared not to move.

“I’m feeling better.” There was so much honesty in her admittance. The burdens in her heart were significantly lighter thanks to her tiny, precious person that was always by her side. 

“Good,” Wato hummed in approval. Conversation faded after that. The two were content watching the waves crashing at a distance. Sherlock wondered how long the tranquility would last. As expected, her companion resumed talking. “I will be going to the Lantern Floating ceremony tomorrow.” It was an admirable sight to see Wato not only was the moral compass, but also the shining light for humanity.

Then Sherlock paused. “You’re not going to make me come with you?”

“It’s your choice. Either way, it will not stop me from going and offering a prayer to Sensei, Akiko-san, and your parents. I will be fine on my own. My English may not be fluent as yours, but I can get around.” It just occurred to the freelancer that she never heard Wato speak in a foreign language before. She wondered what kind of accent her friend had. It was probably American-no thanks to Irene. 

Parting away from that tangent, Sherlock was content with the other woman's response. She liked that she had agency to choose.

“Are you ready to go back? There is a driver waiting for us. We can order saimin and eat it back at the consulate general building.” It was a tempting offer. Having hot, fresh noodles after a (proper) shower sounded divine. She nodded her head.

Before either made a move, a downpour just started. The sudden shift from sunny to cloudy surprised them. They immediately separated and got off the bench. Sherlock was once again drenched. Seriously, what was this recurring theme of her and water?

Unlike the ocean, this one was pleasant. The rain descending was warm, nothing like the cold showers back in the UK. There was something so gentle about it. She understood why songwriters never failed to mention rain when waxing poetic lyrics about the land and its splendid beauty.

“Sherlock! Sherlock!”

Wato’s frantic cries returned Sherlock’s focus to reality. Her friend was also getting soaked. The consultant noted that her neat low ponytail was loosened and sloppy. Stray hairs and bangs clung to her oval face. It was anything but perfect. Yet it was all so alluring to her.

“Sherlock?” the other woman repeated. It was quieter this time for the consulting detective stepped forward. Her gaze never wavered. Her right hand reached out and gently traced Wato’s jaw line. It was a silent gesture asking for permission. 

The petite woman shivered under Sherlock’s touch. Nonetheless, she granted the freelancer consent. Time seemed to move slowly once she closed her eyes, leaned forward, and tilted her head.

There was no way to visually gauge her distance. Only her hand maintained her course. Her efforts were soon rewarded with soft, warm lips touching hers. It was so much more than she hypothesized. It felt so real as her lips lingered. Her grandiose lexicon failed her. Time went to a complete stop as she held her position-not even moving, let alone breathing.

Due to being overwhelmed with the sensation and processing her mind-blowing decision, the consultant lost track of time. She parted away out of biological necessity. She barely had time to open her eyes or even catch her breath for Wato surged forward. Using her tippy toes to grant her an extra height boost, her arms wrapped themselves around Sherlock’s neck.

Her aim was clear and her target was true. Sherlock loved that in a woman.

Their second kiss was nothing like their previous one.

Wato attacked her with such ferocity. There were frantic movements of lips and teeth clashing together. The petite woman was energized through passion and hunger. All Sherlock could do was reciprocate the best she could. The detective protégé put her to shame with her experience of past relationships. The freelancer’s performance was akin to the wooden performances of early 2000s dramas while the other was closer to an Oscar worthy performance.

Somewhere along the way, Wato’s legs wrapped around her waist. It energized her to deepen her kiss as her arms shifted away. Her hands were holding Sherlock's face. The freelancer found herself balancing the petite woman’s weight and her own center of gravity while kissing the woman above her with everything she got. Would their future kisses be intense as this? The type that would make her feel dizzy and threaten to knock her off her feet? Or would it bolster her to become more grounded? The consulting detective relished in challenges. She grew excited at the prospect of new challenges in the future. Practice made perfect as her confidence grew exponentially. 

They eventually separated like before, panting much harder. The consultant held her precious person in her arms nonetheless. There was a glint of amusement in Wato’s eyes. She was enjoying the shift in perspective a little too much. “I always wanted to do that,” her friend sighed in content as she lightly thumbed the corner of Sherlock's lips before moving to her jaw line. The caressing was so light, so gentle, and so comforting. “Kissing in the rain is truly romantic. Thank you, Sherlock.” Ah, now there was that familiar twinkle and that beautiful smile that made Sherlock's heart melt away. She smiled as she gently lowered Wato the ground. Then she noticed a change in scenery. It was not raining anymore! The sky was blue, but there was a new addition: a rainbow.

The freelancer knew the scientific phenomenon by heart, but the symbolism seen in literature and related media was too much. Her old roommate would be laughing her ass off at the cosmic sign.

“Ooh! A rainbow! You know what they represent, right?”

Did Sherlock really needed to answer that question? Could it not get anymore obvious? Should she wave a flag?

“They represent new beginnings, hope, the fulfillment of a dream, and the promise of prosperity,” the other woman answered. “For Hawaiians, rainbows have multiple meanings. My favorite interpretation is an omen, _hoailona_. It’s a blessing from the ancestors or gods approving your past or future actions. I love the idea of spirituality and healing.”

Healing.

She glanced at the sky. Perhaps that this was her omen that it was time to be okay? It was time to stop hurting and start living?

The tiny hand slipped in, fingers interlocked.

That answer was good enough.

***

The rest of Sunday was a fever dream. It was too surreal to be true. The same white SUV came around and picked them up. Under Wato’s instruction, they were to make a detour to a saimin shop of the driver’s choice before returning to Honolulu. Sherlock found herself drifting off to sleep. Moments of lucidity occurred with pecks on the cheek from the woman next to her. In no time, orders were placed and quickly picked up. Then they were back to the urban sprawl of the state capitol.

When they reached the consulate general building, there were three things in her mind: shower, sleep, then eat. She entrusted Wato to take care of her saimin while she trekked upstairs. Her wet clothes were dropped on the bathroom tile floor. They will be dealt with accordingly. She enjoyed the hot water refreshing her. Had it not been for her exhaustion, she would have stayed longer. Yet her brief shower did not negate the cleaning she needed from the ocean. Now donned with pajamas and soiled laundry deposited into a bin for immediate washing, Sherlock finally retreated to bed. It did not take long to sleep.

When she came to, it was already evening. The freelancer glanced over to the empty bed. It seemed that Wato was still out. She felt slightly disappointed that her precious person was not here watching over her. This was the second epiphany in which she realized how much she needed the petite woman in her life. Tachibana Wato was everything to her. It was clear that their relationship changed after that rainy kiss. This was something Sherlock needed to consult Wato with-this was the detective protégé’s expertise. She needed to find her missing partner. Then her head throbbed.

First order of priority: food.

The consulting detective quietly padded down to the kitchen. It was empty sans for a lone crock pot plugged into the wall. The warm switch was on and a wafting smell of dashi and shrimp slipped through the glass lid. She deduced that was her saimin. Her heart fluttered by her friend’s thoughtfulness. The noodles and toppings were safely tucked inside the fridge. She quickly assembled her bowl and procured chopsticks before she took her outside. It was a pity that she missed the sunset. Slurping noodles into the evening outweighed her disappointment. Like the first shop, this noodle dish was also good. She was finished sipping the last remnants of her broth when the consultant general strolled by with a takeaway box, sake bottle, and sake cups in his hands.

“Good evening, Sara-chan. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling better now.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Then he looked hesitant. “May I join you?”

Did she had a choice? Being a senior, a diplomat, an old colleague of her father, and part of Kento’s professional network translated he possessed more autonomy than she did.

Once glance at his face proved her wrong. He was granting her the power of choice. The playing field was now on her terms. The question was, what was she going to do about it?

Sherlock decided to make the hard choice. Not only it was morally right, but it was also what Wato would have done. “Of course you may.”

The consulate general’s face lit up as he pulled out the adjacent chair and sat down. The items in his hands were placed on the table. She watched him unboxed the takeaway container (a pair of cake slices-white cakes with some sort of pudding filing in the middle with whipped cream and coconut shavings on top) and opened a bottle of sparkling sake. The bubbling liquid flowed into the glass. Then it was offered to her. She raised an eyebrow at the gesture. It should have been reversed, yet here she was with her glass poured first. She thanked him and returned the favor. They raised their glasses and said kanpai in chorus before taking a sip. This sake was sweet and had a hint of peach. This was not bad. It would taste amazing with that cake.

As if reading her mind, the consulate general got up to retrieve dessert forks. Sherlock, on the other hand, was already wiping her chopsticks of broth residue before picking up a small portion of cake, whipped cream, and coconut shaving. Using chopsticks for Western dishes was much harder than it looked. Nevertheless, she was successful on her first attempt. Her eyes widened at the taste. This was so good. Anyone who disliked coconut obviously never had a fresh one before. She needed to have another bite. This time, she got some of the pudding filling. It was also coconut. Seriously, this cake was truly delicious. Whoever created this recipe was a genius. 

What was the name of this cake?

“I trust that the haupia cake is to your liking?”

The consulting detective whipped her head around to see the consulate general returning with two forks. There was a smile on his face.

Haupia, eh? This was a delight to try and that meant a lot to her, a chocolate lover. She nodded her head. He sighed in relief and took his seat. Now she was able to enjoy her cake.

With a slice finished (one was definitely not enough) and a sake bottle half empty, they began to talk. “Sara-chan, I want to apologize,” he began. “I had no idea I was hurting you whenever I talked about your parents. I’m sorry for my actions.”

It truly was a first to be the recipient for an apology from this demographic, especially ones that were so sincere. The swell in her chest loosened, but there was one more thing she needed to do.

“I also want to apologize, Ito-san. It wasn’t fair for you to bear the brunt of my foul mood.”

He nodded in understanding. “It was still unfair of me to go overboard, thinking that my grieving process is the same as yours. I wouldn’t think any less of you when you speak up. It’s cliché to say this, but this is America. You can be more honest with your feelings here than Japan.”

She snickered at his cliché statement. Irene said that as well; it was definitely an American thing. Nevertheless, she carefully analyzed his words. Grieving was the theme of today. This was no longer a coincidence. This was inevitability at its finest.

“What’s your grieving process?” she prodded.

“Talking about the memories I had with them. I carry those moments, use the lessons I learn from them and integrate them into my creed. Even though they’re no longer with us, they’re never gone from me.”

The freelancer perked up. “How so?”

“I believe that it isn’t the end when you’re gone from this world. Being meaningful to someone, being loved by someone, being remembered by someone makes all the difference. It makes it easier to breathe that they truly never died.”

Her breath was truly taken away. Not only by the beauty of eloquence, but also the mindset that was a stark contrast to hers. She shut down and pushed down the pain. She made herself forget so she could be pragmatic and survive. Now, she was at this point where she could stop running. She could start reflecting and begin healing.

“Ito-san,” she began. “Can you tell me more talk stories about my parents?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ekolu|Three  
>  Aloha aku no, aloha mai mo|I give my love to you, you give your love to me.
> 
> Pau|finished, done; translation: All done.
> 
> A sample of [ Hawaiian Pidgin.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7X9AAeDCr4)
> 
> The award show Wato refers to is [ Stuart Scott’s 2014 ESPY Speech.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TdF07xO-eo)
> 
> Yuko-san, thank you so much for sharing your craft to the world and introducing the joys of Japanese dramas. It is an honor to be your fan. Rest in Love.
> 
>  _Aloha ʻoe, aloha ʻoe  
>  E ke onaona noho i ka lipo  
>  One fond embrace,  
>  A hoʻi aʻe au  
>  Until we meet again _  
>  _ʻO ka haliʻa aloha i hiki mai  
>  Ke hone aʻe nei i  
>  Kuʻu manawa  
>  ʻO ʻoe nō kuʻu ipo aloha  
>  A loko e hana nei_  
>    
>  (Farewell to thee, farewell to thee  
>  The charming one who dwells in the shaded bowers  
>  One fond embrace,  
>  Ere I depart  
>  Until we meet again  
>  Sweet memories come back to me  
>  Bringing fresh remembrances  
>  Of the past  
>  Dearest one, yes, you are mine own  
>  From you, true love shall never depart)  
>    
>  -Queen Liliuokalani's [ "Aloha Oe"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IIdCpTazQfU)
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
>  [ Desnúdate al paso mi reina y sólo ámame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822915/chapters/49498304)  
>  [Hit It Off Like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
>  [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
>  [I Love You Like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
>  [Kouman to Henken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909666/chapters/34534952)  
>  [Two Drifters, Off to See the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
>  =]


	4. 'Ehā: Ho’i hou ke aloha

It was a busy Monday morning. Both Sherlock and Wato were packing essentials for today’s agenda on the windward side. For the former, she was going to visit Nu'uanu Pali Lookout and Makapu'u Point Light. For the latter, she was visiting the Polynesian Cultural Center. The other woman asked once again if the consulting detective wanted to accompany her, but the consultant was firmed on her hiking decision. The petite woman eventually relented and took it upon herself to pack their lunch. It was convenience store items from 7-Eleven. Thank goodness 7-Elevens in Hawai'i were ran by Seven & i Holdings Co. There was comfort in seeing products from home. She could never forget Irene’s endless complaints how the chain in the mainland was terrible and how lucky she was with the retail stores in Japan.

After wishing Ito and his staff a good day, the two women set off. Her precious person chose to be the driver, providing her the opportunity to glance over. They did not have the chance to talk last night. Ito regaled her with many talk stories about her parents. The consulate general fondly remembered them as superstars, but there were moments that reminded her Futaba Takumi and Misaki were also humans with their own flaws. It added a dimension of complexity for Mama and Papa. As a consequence for spending the rest of the evening with Ito, the other woman was fast asleep when she returned. She could not blame the petite woman, it was quite a Sunday.

Hence resulting in their current predicament: how should they regard their relationship now? Surely everything changed, but the freelancer would argue change occurred long ago. It was a gradual process that was suddenly accelerated. It felt like nothing transformed. Was something special supposed to happen? She typed up a list of rules (which were blatantly ignored and not enforced effectively) when the other woman began staying at 221b. Surely her precious person would have rules and boundaries for whatever this was. She squirmed in her seat when the other woman slowed down to a stop due to backup traffic. She was drifting into uncharted waters and did not like this one bit.

Since the Polynesian Cultural Center was up in Lāʻie, Sherlock was dropped off first. She barely unbuckled her seat belt when Wato leaned over and cupped her chin. Her head was turned and she found herself being kissed for the third time. This kiss was affectionate and light. It was a combination of their previous kisses and it felt so right. It ended quicker than she anticipated. 

“Call me if you decide to commute to Honolulu, Waikīkī, Hale’iwa, or wherever,” her precious person murmured, still keeping her tiny hand in close contact to the freelancer’s face. 

“So you can pick me up?”

“So I know where you are at. Like I said, yesterday, ‘Don’t go where I can’t follow. My heart doesn’t want to hurt anymore. ‘“

The consulting detective swallowed. Her precious person definitely had a way with words that made her stop and think. “I understand. Thanks for…everything. Have fun at the cultural center.” That earned her a quick peck on the cheek. It was a wonder that her heart rate was not sent to overdrive. Then she reached over and flipped the door switch to let herself out. Two steps out and she heard the window rolled down.

“Sherlock!”

She turned around at the call of her name.

“We’ll talk later about our relationship,” the petite woman reassured. “Have a good day!”

The consulting detective waved as Wato drove away and stood there until the car disappeared. She took a deep breath and turned around. Right, there were points of interest calling for her. 

***

While walking on the trail, a cylindrical tower with a balcony and lantern greeted her. The structure was made out of bricks and painted white. There was a red lantern roof, gray trim, and a parapet. This was no other than Makapu’u Point Light in southeastern O’ahu. 

Tower height: 14 m; focal height 130 m; range: 31 km 

  
First lit in 1909; automated in 1974; still active

  
Hyperradiant Fresnel; has the largest lens in the United States

The lighthouse was unfortunately closed to the public. Not wanting to deal with the Coast Guard, the consulting detective pulled out her phone and took pictures before continuing her walk on the trail. It was completely different to see the windward coast and its wildlife in person. She even saw Moloka‘i and Lana’i at a distance! Eventually she reached the end of her route and there was one thing left to do: retrace her steps back. When she returned, the freelancer rested as a reward before getting up and trekking to her next destination, Nu'uanu Pali Lookout.

It was incredulous to believe she could be use to the natural landscape without being slack jawed. The stone terraces provided a panoramic view of Ko’oalu Range veiled with clouds; the towns of Kāneʻohe and Kailua; Mokoliʻi; and the university’s marine biology research center. This lookout was only an eight kilometer drive northeast of Downtown Honolulu!

When she recovered her bearings, Sherlock whipped out her phone again and proceeded to take pictures and videos. She left the sound on to record the howling winds pushing against her. It was strong, but nothing like the waves of yesterday. The freelancer spent so much time overseeing the lookout as visitors ebbed and flowed like waves. According to her readings, this place had historical significance. _Pali_ in Hawaiian meant cliff and this Pali was the battlegrounds for King Kamehameha I’s campaigned to unite O’ahu under his rule. The Battle of Nuʻuanu took place in 1795 and many lives were lost due to the sheer cliff terrain. She could feel the rich history; it reminded her of the sites from Japan’s feudal era. Once she had her fill, the consultant turned away and went down the Pali Tunnels. The path took her to Kailua where she found a park to rest.

It was nearly lunch when her stomach grumbled for sustenance. The consultant frowned; she was hoping to walk more, then backtrack to Pali Tunnels so she could head over to Kāneʻohe for urban exploring. Then an intrusive thought reminded her Wato packed lunch. With her strong attention to details, the petite woman bought all her favorite convenience food items. It was a smart marketing move to operate Hawai’i 7-Elevens independently from the mainland. No wonder why so many Japanese nationals visited this state. It was traveling outside of Asia with minimal language barrier, culture shock, and homesickness. 

She was making her way exploring Kāneʻohe when her phone rang. Upon checking the caller ID, it was her precious person. The consultant furrowed her eyebrows. Did something happened? She wasted no time accepting the call.

“Yes, Wato?” There was no response.”Wato? Wato?” She repeated again.

“ _Where are you?_ ”

She was taken back. Was this how the detective protégé felt when they worked on cases? “I’m in Kāneʻohe.” Then she quickly explained how the Pali Tunnels diverged. She needed to justify her actions whenever she changed locations.

“ _Stay in Kāneʻohe, please. I’ll find you when I get there._ ”

“Okay.” What should she say next? “Drive safe.”

“ _I will._ ” There was an upbeat tone in her voice. She felt relieved hearing that.

Their call ended. What happened at the cultural center? It opened at noon. Now it was past 2:00 p.m. Something did not add up. She remained perplexed over the phone call and stewed over it as she sat on the grassy shade of Ho'omaluhia Botanical Garden. The luscious foliage invoked a sense of calmness that tided her over until Wato pulled into a parking stall. The petite woman quickly spotted her and wasted no time joining the consultant on the grass. Her precious person sank to her knees. Hands wrapped around the consulting detective’s neck and drew her closer. The other woman gently pressed her lips to the temple and lingered there. The freelancer recognized a role reversal and resolved to remain still for as long her precious person desired.

It lasted shorter than she estimated, but she remained glued to Sherlock. It was a repeat of the physical affection performance. Was this an example of love language? Shit, her recognition of social cues were downright abysmal. Wato eventually pulled away, but remained close to her side. As much as she desired comfortable silence, the consultant knew she had to talk. Perhaps a neutral topic would suffice.

“Thanks for packing lunch.”

“My pleasure, I’m glad to see Japanese food in American convenience stores.”

“That’s only in Hawai’i; Irene says 7-Eleven sucks in the other forty-nine states.”

The conversation died after that. She should try again. “Have you eaten lunch?”

“No, I was too upset to eat over there. Hence I’m here with you at a botanical garden. This is a beautiful place to have a picnic."

The consultant nodded her head in agreement. Early afternoon already burned off the clouds that shrouded the mountains and trees. She was curious to see what the garden looked like with fog. She should start planning her itinerary for the rest of the week. While lost in her own musings, the petite woman was already eating her lunch. The quiet munch from her onigiri drew Sherlock’s faraway gaze into focus. She quietly watched her precious person enjoying her food and hoped sustenance would improve her mood. 

“For someone so quiet, you are so loud.”

“How so?”

“I can feel your weighted gaze whenever I have my back turned.”

“Do you hate it?” Damn, she sounded so unsure.

“No! Not at all. I don’t mind; I actually like it because it makes me feel,” the other woman trailed off. Then the corners of her lips quirked up. “It makes me feel sublime.”

sublime |səˈblīm|  
adjective ( **sublimer** , **sublimest** )  
ORIGIN: **late 16th cent. (in the sense ‘dignified, aloof’): from Latin sublimis, from sub- ‘up to’ + a second element perhaps related to limen ‘threshold,’ limus ‘oblique.’**  
-Of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire great admiration or awe  
-Used to denote the extreme or unparalleled nature of a person's attitude or behavior

That was a word she had not heard in forever. Yet it was precise to what they were both feeling. As a consulting detective, she was drawn to the unprecedented, the dauntless, the allure that captivated her mind to process and understand. It was a lifelong quest, an investigation of awe and veneration to keep her alert. Such power was grand to transcend human comprehension and control, but less than divine.

Tachibana Wato was the epitome of it. Sherlock was compelled to do everything she could to remind her precious person that she was an untameable, grandeur force of nature that brought her to her knees in fascination and terror.

She wondered if her gaze was a reflection of her parent’s love for each other. Their eyes expressed a renewed surge of love and adoration. It was a flame well maintained, never becoming a candle in the wind. As a child, she never believed she could achieve what Mama and Papa had. There was a myriad of reasons ranging from her personality to her high expectations. Even with the fairer sex, she was certain there was no one that could be sublime.

Yet here she was: May in the state of Hawai’i, proven wrong. She found herself at a lost for words, though she felt comfortable with this shortfall.

“That sublime feeling works both ways. I, too, feel the same. You make my heart melt.” Her tiny hand laced with hers to cement her point.

She, in turn, fastened her grip. It was affirmation. “Where do we go from here?” she quietly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How do we define our relationship? The threshold of being colleagues, housemates, and friends are long gone. What are we now when those preexisting labels don’t define us?” The conundrum was no longer captive in her mind and heart.

“You’re right; we moved from being friends and platonic boundaries.” Wato smiled. “In that case, what choice do we have other than moving forward? It would be my pleasure and honor calling you my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend, huh?

The freelancer ducked her head. She was getting overwhelmed with the idea.

The petite woman let go of Sherlock’s hand and brought her own underneath the consultant’s chin, forcing her to look up. “You don’t want to be in a relationship with me?” 

The consulting detective vehemently shook her head. Nothing would make her happier than to be together her precious person. It was just…moving faster than she anticipated. It was not even twenty-four hours when she realized her love! Wato was comfortable enough to call her girlfriend whereas she had hesitancy.

“Do you not like the word ‘girlfriend?'”

Ah, trust the detective protégé inside of the petite woman to reach to the heart of the matter.

“You may call me that.”

“But?”

“But that’s not what I consider you as.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Lover.”

Lover was a variable that defined her romance and enforced anonymity in a relationship. Lover was soft, universal, and timeless. She preferred that over girlfriend, a transient word that also made a bold statement but invited unnecessary attention and unwanted nuisance. No, she was the type appealed to something lasting, enduring, and classic.

“You truly are a romantic, an old school romanticist at heart.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad? I never doubted your love for me; I know this can be overwhelming.”

“It is, but we can take our time, yes?”

“Of course we can, Sherlock. We’ll move our relationship at our own pace as long as we communicate and put in the effort to move forward. Does that sound good?”

The corners of her lips tugged. The consultant reckoned this might be the biggest smile she mustered for Wato.

Safely drifting back to shore, she was finally learning to love her more.

***

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the botanical garden. She used her bag as a pillow when she reclined on the lawn. The other woman followed, draping half of her body on the consultant detective. Her head gently rested on the freelancer’s chest. To her credit, her lover made no comment about the thunderous heartbeat. If anything, it seemed to lull the petite woman to sleep.

They managed to stay awake by talking. Wato shared her horrible experience at the Polynesian Cultural Center while she recounted the talk stories with the consulate general. The other woman hummed in approval for making up. 

The petite woman that decided that they must leave and start trekking to Ala Moana Beach Park. The consultant was reluctant to depart. Nonetheless, she guided her precious person through Kāneʻohe for dinner to grab as they commuted to Ala Moana. She managed to find good parking where they were able to enjoy their bowls of poke. Satiated with their meal, the two trekked to the beach, holding hands. They stopped at the Lantern Request Tent where volunteers handed out bags of floating lanterns to be assembled. The adjacent tables had a storage bins of markers for participants to write names or messages in a quiet space. The two opted to share one. They decided to divide the three paper panels for two individual messages and one shared.

Her lover had no problem composing a heartfelt message. Meanwhile, the consultant was struggling with choosing which language to write in. She was well-versed in Japanese and could easily compose a sentence that would be challenging to translate. Plus, the characters would deter any snooping from non-native speakers. Yet grammar conventions and lexicon muffled her true thoughts and feelings. English, on the other hand, was more liberating in expression. Simultaneously, she was in Hawai'i where many spoke the same language. Then again, she was only staying in this state temporarily. Visitors to the islands came and went. In this moment in time, nothing was permanent. 

Two arms wrapped around her waist. She froze at the sudden contact then instantly relaxed. It was a sensation she never felt before, but with all things concerning with Tachibana Wato, she needed more in her life.

“What’s wrong?” the petite woman murmured, still holding her tightly and lovingly.

“I don’t know what to write, not even in the language to compose in.”

“Why not both? It’s our lantern float, no one is going to judge. Besides, these will be collected once the ceremony is over and ritualistically burned. Your thoughts and feelings will be safe.”

As always, her lover had a point. She felt instantly better. “I know what to write now.” That earned her another squeeze. The other woman pulled away to give her space. She wrote her note in half Japanese and half English. She jotted about how much she missed her parents even though she shut down her grief. Then she admitted that part of her was angry at them for leaving too soon when she needed them the most and wished they had more time together. (She even wished that they met her precious person; she was certain they would like her brilliant lover.) In the end, she hoped Papa and Mama were at peace and continued to watch over her, Kento, Wato, and all the other important people in her life. She hoped that she would someday see them again in the afterlife, whatever that may be. The consulting detective felt relieved when she added the period to her last sentence. Now with the dilemma resolved, they worked together on their last one.

With the floating lantern prepared, the two women lingered at Ala Moana. They watched the sun setting and the beach getting crowded as more participants came over. All walks of life gathered; it was profoundly humane. Due to their early attendance, they were part of the row close to the apron. The apron had elements of the ceremony prepared. The stage itself had the Japanese instruments also set up. There was a jumbotron as the backdrop. To the side, there was a camera crew. The consulting detective had not realize that this event was televised. Volunteers were walking around, handing out programs to all visitors. With a book in her hands, the freelancer sat down and began reading, racing against the remaining daylight.

It was interesting that the lantern festival was in its twenties. For the first time, it was renamed Shinnyo Lantern Floating Hawai’i. The concept of _shinnyo_ was integral of Shinnyo-en, a denomination of Buddhism. The denomination was lead by a female Buddhist master; it was impressive as few women were recognized as a master and attained _Daisojo_ , the highest priest rank. Her Holiness Shinso Ito retained her position since 1989, just as long as the Heisei era. The consulting detective was not a Buddhist practitioner by any means, but she was looking forward to see Her Holiness in action.

By the time she finished reading the brochure, the stage was already occupied with musicians and the first set of performers. The jumbotron was already on. The center of the stage had eight men in a circle. They had a _pāreu_ tied in a ceremonial garb like Buddhist monks, but wore long sleeve white shirts and black slacks underneath. The interesting part was holding a conch shell in their right hand. The eldest man began chanting in Hawaiian. The seven other men repeated his words. There was fierceness and deep pride. Then they turned around and blew on their conch shells. The consultant got chills as the men began to sanctify the beach.

Silence followed afterwards. It was not long until taiko drumming echoed throughout the beach. It was followed by a gong, shakuhachi, and other taikos. She recognized this element as a call to bring people together and a prayer offer for peace. When it was over, the jumbotron displayed footage of Her Holiness explaining what shinnyo was. Her voice was dubbed over by an English speaker. It transitioned to the title and logo before the camera focused on two emcees (most likely news anchors). The emcees introduced themselves and welcomed the visitors. The next portion shifted into a video message of one of the performers, who was a Hawaiian singer. He then appeared on stage and sang his song while playing his guitar. 

After the song, the female explained the next segment: an _oli_ with the taiko ensemble. During another chant, the Shinnyo-en priests walked out with carrying a lamp. They were distinct due to the colorful ceremonial garbs. The head priest soon followed. Around Sherlock, the audience (particularly the Japanese) all perked up. She could see why: Her Holiness donned orange robes and exuded grace, gentleness, and authority. Interestingly enough, there was a youthful vibe about her that contrasted her gray hair. Her Holiness bowed before the audience before reaching the podium. The jumbotron now focused on her and provided subtitles for her speech. Light claps soon followed. “Aloha,” she began with a smile. The audience roared back with the same greeting. 

“Welcome to Shinnyo Lantern Floating Hawaiʻi. This year marks the twentieth anniversary of our ceremony of harmony amid diversity, made possible through the continued efforts of so many that offered their support and understanding throughout the years. I wish to also offer my heartfelt thanks to our honored guests, staff and all our volunteers so generously offering their time and dedication, and all who are joining us for this ceremony tonight.” There was another round of polite claps.

Her Holiness continued, “I would like to share something I learned from my spiritual teachers, the founders of the Shinnyo tradition, Masters Shinjo and Tomoji Ito. They believed in each person’s ability to awaken to their inner light of shinnyo, the unique potential and goodness we all inherently share to make life meaningful and live our lives in joy. Imagine every life that came before us, family members we love, friends we hold dear, and the countless flora and fauna with whom we’ve shared this earth. Each life is invariably linked to those of us in the present.

In sharing this moment tonight, I hope that we can come together in celebration of our lives, enhancing the wisdom and loving compassion that make us the irreplaceable people that we are. Fueled with concrete efforts of kindness and warmth in our everyday lives, our inner light that may begin at first as sparks will burn stronger than ever. This spark that is our inner light of shinnyo—defined by our thoughts extended to others—ignites each of us to make a difference towards a more peaceful world.

In a few moments, in loving remembrance of those who came before us, we will light the lanterns with the flame of shinnyo symbolizing our hopes and prayers. The ceremony’s theme, 'Many Rivers, One Ocean—Share Your Light' is evocative of the wholesome individuality innate within us that burns brightest in the face of the strongest winds. Alone, we may be but a single light. But when we bring our acts of lovingkindness together in shared purpose, we have the ability to make positive changes that transcend time and space, to the past, present, and future. In sharing our spirit of harmony amid diversity from the oceans of Hawaiʻi to ripple far and wide, may each of us be inspired to forever keep our inner light kindled and let it shine through to illuminate the world.

Namu shinnyo—may your inner light of shinnyo shine through. Mahalo nui loa.”

After her speech, the jumbotron shared recordings from four different honored guests such as the armed forces, religious leaders, and state employees. The guests joined Her Holiness on the apron afterwards. The five soon gathered around a pit and were handed torches. The torches were lowered into the pit (which was called the Light of Harmony). Everyone began clapping when the Light was lit. Meanwhile, volunteers were walking around and lighting the individual lanterns.

To keep everyone entertained as the volunteers continued lighting, there were performances on stage. The hulas were both traditional and modern styles. Following the dances were Buddhist chants singing in Western choral style. Aside from watching the dances, the freelancer kept her eyes glued on Her Holiness. She was now performing another rite. It was clear that she was blessing the six main lanterns on stage left. Later in the rite, flower petals adorned the stage for honoring loved ones. Wreaths were even placed on the main lanterns. Another set of volunteers canoed out and placed the Collective Remembrance Lanterns in the water. The sky was getting darker. The orange glow provided a nice contrast to the blue hue. The consultant inferred it was almost time for the individual lanterns to set sail. 

Back at the podium, Her Holiness spoke out again. “The light of lanterns, the inner light of shinnyo, a shared light with the countless before us, remember the countless who came before us. Celebrate how their lives have led to ours today. Take action to make a difference in the world. May the past be healed, may the present be with joy and fulfillment, may we act to realize peace for the future. Share the light of our loved ones. Make our inner light brighter, stronger. Join me in a prayer to kindle our inner light.”

The female emcee, paraphrasing Her Holiness’ words, added, “By releasing your lanterns, we share the light of our loves ones to discover, celebrate, and bring out ours. I believe in your shinnyo-your potential-to make life meaningful for all.” Another chant followed, this time the audience (who knew) joined in. Finally, Her Holiness lifted the bell and rang it several times. Everyone waited in bated breath. The male emcee then announced it was time to float the individual lanterns. The two women waded into the shore. The consulting detective lead the way while Wato carried their lantern. They walked until they were knee deep in the water. (Thank goodness for wearing shorts.) They placed it together and watched it drift away, joining the other sea of lanterns. There was something so beautiful and heartwarming to see the collective. It demonstrated that everyone had a lost yet had hope. It was a sight she never knew she needed. The pain inside her heart still hurt, but the degree significantly decreased. 

Her lover wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s waist and leaned her head to rest on the consultant’s shoulder. In turn, the consulting detective rested her head on the petite woman. They remained standing in the water, watching the soft glow. It dawned on her that this was similar to Obon, but there was warmth and kindness that outweighed the grief. It was all thanks to the strangers that gathered. 

Tears welled in her eyes. She did not realized they felled downwards until her precious person gently wiped them away. The gesture was reassuring.

The two women left Ala Moana in a much brighter mood. It was due to the final performance: another Hawaiian mid-tempo song strummed on the guitar.

When they reached their car, neither were in a hurry to exit out. Not only it was crowded, but the island vibe of taking it slow and easy had a profound effect on them. They were content sitting in silence. For once, she did not feel the pressure to initiate a conversation. 

Eventually, their patience was rewarded as the parking lot thinned out. “Do you want to grab dessert?” the other woman asked before she turned on the ignition. It seemed that her lover also shared the same of idea of nor returning to the consulate general building yet. 

“Yeah, that sounds like a fantastic idea.” The consultant pulled out her phone and started searching. Her precious person had to try the haupia cake. “Give me a second to find the address while the cell data reception is strong here.” Soon, their car was on its way to Ted's Bakery.

Perhaps her stare was so audible and noticeable because she loved watching Wato’s expressions at any gastronomy experience. It was a cinematic privilege that she had. As the sole and intended audience, the consulting detective had no desire to divulge these moments with anyone else.

“This is so good!” the petite woman exclaimed. “This is just what I needed.”

She smiled and went back to eating her slice. She was now making a list of authentic food goods to buy. There were only four days left. Time trickled faster during the countdown of vacation. 

“Hey Sherlock, where do you want to do for the rest of our time here?” Her lover reached over to hold her hand. She lost count of how many times Wato reached out to touch her. This was a change she would gladly accept in their future days.

“To make up for your experience at the cultural center, will you join me on a date at the Honolulu Zoo and Waikīkī Aquarium?” She theorized something upset Wato and therefore wanted to improve her mood. It was good fortune she chanced upon an ad earlier. Thankfully, both zoo and aquarium would satisfy both parties: educational experience for her and a popular dating activity for her lover.

Wato broke out in a wider grin. “Yes! I would LOVE to go on a date with you!”

She smiled back, then started to feel overwhelmed by the full force of that affection. It was automatic for her to look down. Yet that grin never faded away. This was a sign that her jaw would get a good workout. Never had she experienced such flexing before. Never would she regret it.

***

They walked around the zoo and aquarium side by side, hand in hand. She took the lead with conversing in English. She noted her linguistic effect from the corner of her eye. So that was a turn on, eh? The consultant made sure to use that to her advantage. There would be less opportunities once they return to Japan.

In exploring O’ahu, the two women also made time to shop for souvenirs. Ito’s wife was indeed correct that the drug stores and warehouses in Hawai’i had bargain deals. She managed to buy boxes of Hawaiian Hosts and calendars for Kento, Reimon, Shibata, and Irene. For her landlady, she wanted to get something special. The opportunity came when they went to the Aloha Stadium Swap Meet. Right outside the stadium, the parking lot was transformed into an open-air market. There were rows of vendors selling various artisan craft goods. It was a welcomed sight to see the prices slightly lowered.

Although they walked around together, the consultant watched the other woman walk over to interact with the sellers. The petite woman was correct that her English was proficient. Yes, she had an accent, but it was charming and easy for native speakers to comprehend. In every interaction, she had nothing but pride. Tachibana Wato truly came a long way and she never wanted her lover to not look down and so forlorn. Of course, that would not happen again because this time the consulting detective would be right behind her for support. 

“Sherlock, I got you a present.”

She blinked back to the present. Her precious person stood before her with two hands out holding a flower clip. This was a plumeria. Unlike the iconic colors of white petals and a yellow center, this one had a gradient of pink petals (getting lighter inward) and an orange-yellow center. From her botanical education at the zoo, this was _Plumeria rubra ‘Riviera Rainbow’_. It took all her will to not furrow her eyebrows to contemplate if this color scheme was eye catching to Wato or was giving her a subtle way to identify as a lesbian. Maybe there were mysteries that should not be solved. “Thank you,” she replied and accepted the gift.

“Clip it on the left side.” 

The consulting detective obeyed as she adjusted it. “Is there any significance by having it on the left?”

“It means you are taken. You are my girlfriend.”

Huh, that was a plot twist she was not expecting. She glanced back at her lover. Wato was also wearing her clip. Today, it was on her left side.

It was this moment.

Everything in the world suddenly became so beautiful thanks to that dazzling smile. It was all because there was someone dear she wanted to love forever. It was so innocent under the clear blue sky. The consultant grabbed one of the tiny hands and brought it to her lips. There were no qualms about public display of affection because they were in their own perfect world of love, what a dream that came true. She was Sherlock’s first and last love; she would not let go of Wato anymore. The consulting detective let her lips lingered before she tugged it, propelling her precious person forward. “Come, we need to find a souvenir gift for Kimie.”

They walked further down the aisles, eventually stopping at a clothing booth. This vendor sold authentic Hawaiian clothes (it was so easy to distinguish it from the fake, touristy, and very stereotypical fashion). Gauging her lover’s reaction, she surmised this would be the optimal shop for her landlady. She passed by the mu’umu’u, Aloha shirts, graphic tank tops, board shorts, and more. Her target was the pāreu, the perfect gift. It was unique and incredible cultured. The older lady valued authenticity over the tackiness. Each garment was aesthetic in both color and design. The only question was: which one to pick?

Her lover walked over and helped her choose. Their final choice was one in black with a plumeria (white petals with a yellow center) and leaves. It was perfect. 

***

Returning to Hawai’i was not impossible, but neither could predict when. Ito suggested the earlier half of the spring. There was the Merrie Monarch Festival after Easter. The consulate general and his wife could not stop praising its cultural importance and prestige as a hula competition. She quietly made a memo to book a flight for April next year. At least her lover would be notified in advance. They could create a plan to explore the rest of O'ahu and hop over to the other five islands.

In the final days of their trip, the two women devoted their time to trying famous food stops. On their last day, it was spur of the moment to order a box from Modo Hawai’i and drive to Wahiawā at five in the morning. There was word on the street that a shop sold donuts similar to pon de ring. They were going to feast with no regrets before their flight.

As usual, they stopped at a botanical garden for their picnic date. At Wato's insistence, the consultant ended laying on her lap. While munching on the donut (which was on point and incredibly delicious), she thought how it all began: eating through a box of fried sweetened dough. Their journey now made a complete circle. “It’s a shame we missed Hawai’i’s hanami,” the other woman remarked. “It must be a sight to see cherry blossoms bloom around this beautiful flora.” On their way to the botanical garden, they drove by a street which had cherry blossoms trees. These trees were a gift from Okinawa. It was a community decision to plant these trees in the front yard of homes so people could drive by and admire when it bloomed.

She agreed that it must be sight, but that was not where her mind was at. Hanami was synonymous to spring, the season of new beginnings and meetings. The consultant met her precious person around the cusp of summer and fall. She closed her eyes, remembering that night. The catalyst where everything began: the moment where she fell in love. Had she not been stubborn about her feelings, perhaps she would have laughed, cried, and finally be swallowed by her fondness as she brought the petite woman to 221b. 

“I adore you,” Wato whispered, “I adore you so much.”

She felt her heart burst with unbridled endearment and elation soon as she opened her eyes. Her lover’s face was so close. On instinct, she knew she needed to respond.

_Every moment I spend with you, always with you, I received true love from you. Even if the path that I am walking on is steep, I have a light that will never go out._

With her thoughts quickly formulated, it was a matter of execution. Could she do it? She mustered all her will and opened her mouth.

“I-,” she began, only to stop when a lone index finger tapped her lips.

“It’s okay,” her lover replied softly, “You don’t have to say it right away. Say it when it feels right. There’s no rush. For now, please kiss me.”

How was it possible? A single word, a lingering touch, and a gentle gaze. All these were insignificant actions directed to her. The petite woman singlehandedly transformed her world. There was nothing the consultant could do to stop it other than surrender and declare she belonged with her.

Her arms reached up to pull her lover forward while she raised her head to met soft lips. Kissing Wato was a dynamic experience. No two kisses were the same, but the fluttering rush was continuous. Together, they were learning and discovering something new with each other.

Sherlock broke away from their kiss to glance up at the sky. The dark hue was gradually becoming lighter. Daybreak was emerging and a new day was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Ehā|Four  
> Ho’i hou ke aloha|Let us fall in love all over again
> 
> Title and quotes are from E-girls' ["Perfect World."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7rbFUUv0S98) Lyrics and translations can be found [ here.](https://web.archive.org/web/20190526203908/https://onehallyu.com/topic/739881-e-girls-perfect-world/)
> 
> The video of Lantern Floating Hawai'i 2019 can be found [ here.](https://lanternfloatinghawaii.com/page/view_ceremony)
> 
> Words cannot express my gratitude for everyone's patience in the conclusion of this tale. Mahalo nui loa! =]

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [ Desnúdate al paso mi reina y sólo ámame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822915/chapters/49498304)  
> [Hit It Off Like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You Like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Kouman to Henken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909666/chapters/34534952)  
> [Two Drifters, Off to See the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


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